


The Hunter War

by Nopennamesleft



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-02
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2017-11-15 11:52:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 47,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nopennamesleft/pseuds/Nopennamesleft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Code had only been a ruse. They started a war to wipe out the packs but they never could have foreseen the consequences. Welcome to a world where wolves rule supreme and the hunters have become the prey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

The Hunter War

For decades they had waited, biding their time, following the code. They strengthened their ranks, improved their family bloodlines, and trained for the day they would be strong enough to declare war. War upon the abomination that had walked this earth for too long, its unclean presence an affront to nature, the werewolf. They watched the packs, making sure they never gained in numbers, hunted and killed the weak. Through the years they waited. They waited for war and tonight that wait was over.

Alphas and betas were put down first, leaving only the lowly omegas to protect the bitches and cubs. The hunters ignored their pleas for mercy and calls to honor the code. The code had ever been a ruse, a blinder to keep the stupid animals from bolting before their time of slaughter. By night’s end, across the country, packs lay dead. Unclean blood purified by earth’s embrace. The hunters celebrated their victory, for a new day had arisen.

The hunters had won the battle but the war had just begun.

The true strength of the packs had been hidden from the hunters. Only the alpha from each pack knew the wolves’ true strength and numbers. Seeing the coming danger years ago, the packs had devised a means of defending and protecting themselves against the hunters. They knew the code would not protect them much longer.

Weaker packs and lone wolves had been left to be discovered and tracked over the years. A necessary sacrifice for the greater good. The powerful packs stayed in the shadows, growing in number, watching their enemy. Werewolves, strong, fast, and hard to kill took on many prominent positions within their communities. The military, police force, and fire rescue became common wolf employment. Hiding in plain sight, they watched their enemy.

The morning after the hunter’s attack, the true packs rose as a single snarling wolf. For weeks, news reports were wild with stories of unparalleled animal attacks coming in from all parts of the country. These attacks seemed to be targeted toward young men and women. All the people attacked survived and only the hunter’s knew the true meaning.

In desperation, the hunters released the werewolves’ secret to the world but it was too late. The wolves had chosen their targets well. They had increased their packs to the point that they had little to fear. 

In the first weeks after the werewolf revelation, riots took over the streets of the country. Some pleaded for the bite and were added to the ranks, a few gathered arms and joined the hunters, but most barricaded themselves in at night and let nature take its course.

The Hunter War had begun.


	2. The End of a Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They survived the battle but will they be able to survive the consequences?

(Three months later)

Stiles worked his way silently through the pine litter that covered the forest floor. His compound bow held steady before him as he tracked the faint trail at his feet. Without looking he knew that Scott and Paul were flanking him on either side. For the past four years they had trained together, becoming so tightly knit that a single motion would convey conversations worth of meaning.

Stiles raised his hand, palm open and up. Scott and Paul immediately sunk to the forest floor waiting for their leader’s next command. At seventeen, Stiles was too young for the leader position but with the war raging, many opportunities were becoming available to the younger hunters. At least that was how Owen Chassuer phrased it. Stiles just wished he had been honest. An honest answer would be that the rest were dead.

Stiles waited for the other two teams to enter his line of sight. The trail they followed was no longer clear. Deep in his gut he was starting to suspect that something was very wrong.

To his left he could see Scott fidgeting with his crossbow as he tried to rub the arrow brand on his bicep that was now a requirement for all hunters. In the last month two compounds had been infiltrated by wolves pretending to be lone hunters. Once inside they had sabotaged the alarm systems, allowing the perimeter to be breached. With the same brutality the hunters had shown the slaughtered packs, the wolves quickly wiped out all the humans within each compound.

The brand was a perfect symbol. Any hunter wishing to enter another compound had to show proof of mark. If they were unmarked, they were to submit to the brand. Because wolves don’t scar. The question of one’s humanity could be cleared in minutes. Feeling his own newly branded skin give a twinge, he could not help but wonder how long it would take the packs to bypass even this form of protection. If you were branded before you turned, then the scar would remain. He hoped that they didn’t think of that.

With a simple hand signal to his team, Stiles moved deeper into the woods. He kept a careful eye out for the rest of the groups. A rouge pair had been spotted in this area and three training teams lead by an experienced one had begun the hunt. Alpha-less, they could be quickly dispatched before they were able to find a new pack. In the months since the outing of the packs, simple hunts had become rare. This was Stiles’ first chance for his team to prove themselves in the field.

A scream broke the forest quiet followed by the guttural howl. Without a glance toward his team, knowing they would follow, Stiles took off in the direction of the sounds of battle. Entering a small clearing caused by the felling of a large pine, Stiles fired his arrow into the back of a beta, giving another hunter a chance to regain his footing.

Five hunters lay dead on the ground and Owen Chassuer, head of his compound, was on his knees before the alpha. “Did you think because we can shift into animals we would be easy to slaughter? Did you believe that we would not be prepared? The code was the only think keeping you alive.” The alpha twisted his wrist, dragging Chassuer to his feet. “I just wanted to look you in the eye and thank you. Thank you for breaking the code so that the packs can wipe you from existence.” With a final snarl, he ripped the head from Chassuer’s body.

With that show of brutality, the remaining hunters doubled their attack. Paul yelled as he rushed into the fray. His arrow imbedded itself into the alphas shoulder before another wolf took him from behind with a bloody slash of claws to his neck.  
Finding himself hemmed in by two betas, Stiles drew his dagger. Even coated in wolfs bane, he knew that it would not hold them off for long. Scoring a hit across a green eyed wolf’s side, Stiles saw Scott engage the alpha on the far side of the clearing. Then he was flying through the air, vision and thought ending as he struck a tree. 

(Hunters War……..Hunter War……..Hunter War)

The forest filtered the light, dappled against his face and eyes, as he struggled to consciousness. His eyes were matted and his back was a mass of unyielding bruises. Rolling to his knees, Stiles paused as his stomach rebelled, sick and shaking he kept his head down and eyes closed until it passed.

As the dizziness slowly abated, he pulled himself to his feet. The clearing was a blood bath. His eyes found Paul almost immediately, his neck a bloody ruin, tendons and bone clearly visible from where Stiles stood. Frantic, Stiles searched for Scott. A low moan from behind the fallen trunk sent Stiles stumbling in his friend’s direction.

Scott’s body was covered with oozing bite marks and scratches. Gathering him to his chest, Stiles pulled the shirt from his chest to check the damage. With a sinking heart, he knew that the bites were deep enough to take if they were from the alpha.  
Scott’s eyes fluttered open. “Was it the alpha?” Stiles’ voice cracked. An alpha bite was an instant death sentence for a hunter. Scott would be expected to end his life and Stiles, as the closest thing to family would be required to stand with honor. Stiles could not see the honor of killing your loved ones should they lack the courage to end their own life. He tightened his grip, pulling Scott closer to his chest and rocking back and forth.

A whispered “yes” had Stiles blacking out with a gnawing emptiness. All his family was dead, only Scott who had always been like a brother was left. One bite and he was adrift. Without Scott his last tie to family would be severed. His heart convulsed in his chest. No, no, no, he mentally cried.

“I don’t want to die,” Scott whispered, ashamed of how his voice broke.

“You won’t. It’s not that deep,” Stiles lied. “You may not even be infected. The moon’s full tomorrow. We can wait until then to make any decisions. There is no need to panic. Let’s just keep this quiet until we know for sure.” But Stiles knew. It was panic time. The hunters at the compound would insist on Scott’s death as soon as they found the bite marks. No hunter turned. Scott was an abomination in their eyes now.

But to Stiles he was family. His only family. And furry or not, Stiles would protect his family with his last breath.

Stiles bandaged Scott, gathered weapons off the bodies of the hunters, and lead the way back to his old, beat up jeep. Plans and ideas jumbled in his brain as he drove away from town. Tensing his jaw, he glanced at Scott, promising himself that he would not lose another family member.

“Why aren’t we returning to the compound?” Scott’s voice wavered and his eyes were glassy. Stiles knew the bite was taking effect.  
“You know they would insist of seeing your wounds. We have to stay away until we can prove you are clean.”  
“We both know I’m not,” Scott replied. “They will hunt us down.”

“I don’t care. You don’t want to die and I don’t want you dead. So guess what! Wolf or no wolf, you are my best friend and I will do everything in my power to keep you alive. We can get through this. You need to trust me. It will all be okay.”

Scott smiled weakly at his friend. “I always trust you, Stiles.”

Holding up in an old barn, Stiles and Scott waited for the rise of the full moon. Stiles spent all the money he and Scott had to purchase chains and a sturdy lock. After wrapping Scott tightly, locking the chains so that he could hardly move, Stiles sat on the far side of the barn to watch. “Maybe you won’t change.” Scott’s head dropped resting almost on the floor. 

“Stiles, the wounds have healed completely. I can feel it. Lifting his head he met Stiles’ gaze. “You should go. Run.” His eyes went amber yellow and he arched against the chains. “Go!” he screamed.

“No,” Stiles hunkered down further; making sure his head was lower than Scott’s. No need to play the dominance card on his first change. “Just listen to my voice. You need to focus on who you are. Don’t let the animal win.”

Scott made no reply except in growls and pained panting. His ears elongated becoming furred and pointed. His teeth lengthened into fangs. Body thrashing against the chains, Scott howled into the night. Grabbing his gun out of his waistband, Stiles stood guard. Whether he was protecting himself from Scott or Scott from hunters that could be alerted by the cries, Stiles could not tell. The night dragged on. Scott twisted and fought the chains as the moon moved slowly across the sky until finally setting.

Moving slowly toward his motionless friend, Stiles spoke softly. “Easy, Scott, easy.” The furred head lifted briefly letting out a soft whine and a slow lift of his chin to expose his throat. “Moons down. You should be feeling more like yourself.”

“Stiles,” Scott replied, his voice harsh and dry. Slowly the fur started to retreat leaving smooth skin. Ears and eyes returned to their human shape. “I’m here. I’m back.” Lastly Scott’s eyes shifted back to their usual dark brown. 

Chains falling to his feet as Stiles worked his way through the locks; Scott could not see a way for this new situation to work. He knew now why hunters killed the bitten. Where could they go where they would not be sought after by wolves and Hunters alike? All his bridges were burned; all his roads lead to dead ends. Dead, like he should be. He could not let his death sentence become Stiles’ as well. “You need to go. Got to the compound. Tell them I’m dead or bitten and you could not catch me. Don’t let this ruin you.”

With a rage Scott had never seen, Stiles slammed him into the wall. “Ruin me? You don’t think loosing the only person left that I can call family would not ruin me? Could you walk out on me?” Seeing Scott’s head shake, he continued in a softer tone. “And I could not walk out on you. We are in this together. We will figure this out. Hey, you said you trusted me.”

“I do,” Scott said and followed Stiles out of the barn and into their future.


	3. The End of Their Rope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Scott have come to the end of their ropes. There is nothing left to do but jump and hope the fall doesn't kill them.

(Almost eight months later)

The baby blue jeep coughed its way past the town city limits sign, obviously not long for this world without immediate mechanical attention. Scott was curled in the passenger seat, head resting against the window, breathing evenly in his sleep. Spying a mostly empty strip center, Stiles pulled his jeep around to the back and parked as far from the sight of the main road as possible. He leaned his head against the steering wheel, listening as the jeep’s engine stuttered to a stop.

“Why are we stopping?” came a sleep rumble. Scott sat up and looked around. “Where the hell are we?”

“Beacon Hill,” Stiles let out a hopeless sigh. The jeep was at the end of its rope and so was he. For the last year of his life he had spent every waking hour and many a sleepless night trying to keep Scott alive. He had kept them one step away from the hunters and out of the pack’s awareness. But he was so tired now.

Both boys had lost weight and living on the run had taken its toll on them. More so with Stiles because he always made sure the Scott had the majority of the food. He did not want a hungry wolf. As the war came to an end, they mostly had to worry about avoiding the packs. Scott’s arm still had the brand. Stiles had told him at one point that he should cut it out, he would heal clean and without the scar. But Scott refused. There was no way for Stiles to erase his brand and Scott would not leave him to face the packs alone if they were discovered.

“Looks like we will be here awhile. The jeep is pretty much dead. It needs some work before we can move on. We need to get some money together in the next few days and then take it in for an auto checkup.” The boys had become experts on yard work. Knocking on doors, they would offer to do yard work; mowing, weeding, gutters, anything needed. “Our dad was laid off,” they would explain, “We are trying to help with the bills.” Two pair of sad puppy eyes would usually seal the deal. So far this had kept them in food and gas…barely.

Stiles mentally calculated the amount of money and time it would take to earn in his head. “We need to check for a local pack and find a place to hide out. We are going to be here for a couple of weeks (if not months he thought), if there is a pack, we need to know them on sight so that we can avoid detection.”

Pulling out a large brown bag of herbs, Stiles tossed it to Scott. “I hate this. It makes my nose numb.”

“Better numb than tracked,” Stiles replied. The herb covered their scent, protecting them from inquisitive packs. Lone hunters were dispatched the same way lone omegas were in the past. Quickly and with little mercy. And lone wolves were still not welcome in another pack’s territory. An ex hunter slash lone werewolf and his ex hunter friend would come to a quick and messy end if discovered.

Scott’s stomach growled warningly. “Come on. Let’s find a cheap burger joint and get you some food before you eat my tires.” Stiles grabbed his backpack, loaded with scent erasing herbs, assorted weapons, and the little cash they had left. Scott pulled out the two beaten bikes from the back of the jeep. Whenever they could, they used muscle power instead of gas. Every penny they could save was calories in Scott’s stomach.

Biking through the streets of the quiet town, Stiles could not help wishing this could be called home. Maybe if there was no wolf pack they could stay here for a while. Get real jobs. Finish high school. Stiles laughed out loud.

“What’s so funny?”

“I was just wishing we were back in high school.”

Scott braked to a halt, looking in amazement at Stiles. “Wow, is it that bad? I would think it would be the end of times before you would ask to go back to school. What did you call it? The ninth circle of hell?”

“It’s not bad. I’m just thinking of simpler times.”

“Yeah, before I was a blood thirsty monster.”

“You’re not a monster. Hell, you haven’t tried to kill me in almost six months, and you couldn’t even say that before you turned. You’re not blood thirsty either. Don’t make this about you being a wolf. We both know how wrong we were back then.” Having his best friend turn into a werewolf had opened Stiles eyes to many new views of the world. The biggest of which was that being a werewolf did not make you a monster.

Nodding, Scott pushed off and peddeled toward town. His silence and stiffness of his spine showing that he still, after all this time, thought of himself as more a monster that human.

Stopping at the nearest fast food joint where Stoles loaded Scott up with dollar burgers and fries, they gently pried information from the locals. Smiling his goofy grin, Stiles rambled on about being new to town and asked about movie theaters, hang outs, cool places, and slipped in a casual ‘so do you have a local pack here?’

“Just a small one. The Hale Pack. It’s like the whole war passed us by here in Beacon Hill.” The burger pusher almost sounded disappointed by that. “There are only six of them and they stay mostly quiet. No one goes in the forest on a full moon but even if they did it would be mostly safe.”

“No hunter families?” Stiles questioned.

“Hunters? Didn’t the packs wipe them out?”

“I heard there were a few families left.”

“Huh? If there are any hunters, I don’t think they would come out about it. It’s still a good way to end up dead.” Stiles had to agree. Being a hunter was a death sentence these days.

As they finished their burgers, Stiles went over their limited options. The jeep would not make it more than another town or two. And who knew if there were packs in those towns, it could be worse. Question was did he want to risk taking the chance. A chance with Scott’s life? The answer would always be NO.

“Hurry up, Fido”, Stiles ignored Scott’s glare. “Finish eating. We need to find a place to take the jeep, someplace to crash, and start sweeping neighborhoods for jobs.” He kept his voice light and positive. He was becoming a regular wolf whisperer and he would need all his new found powers to keep Scott safe during the weeks it would take to get the jeep fixed and paid for. 

Oh well, he thought. When you are at the end of your rope, it’s time to jump. Hopefully the fall wouldn’t kill him.


	4. The End of the Week

The End of the Week

Not even twenty four hours, Stiles thought. They couldn’t stay under the radar for even a day. The sheriff discovered them sleeping in the jeep their very first night. Blinking into the bright beam of the flash light, Stiles’ brain worked overtime to come up with excuses. The sheriff look at the tightly packed jeep, ever inch filled with clothes, supplies, and bike equipment. “You boys know it’s against the law to sleep in your car?” 

“Sorry sir, the jeep gave out. It usually starts after a cool down. I guess we just fell asleep. We're taking a year off before starting college. You know, have an adventure. See the sights. We will be in town for a couple of weeks until we can get my jeep fixed. In fact, maybe you could tell us where a reasonable hotel is located?” 

The sheriff looked a little suspicious, but after taking down their license plate number and checking their IDs, he showed them the nearest hotel. Stiles had to dig into his 'end of the world, last chance to survive' fund. It was a slim envelope taped to the bottom of his seat.

Stiles tossed the hotel key to Scott. “I paid for three days.” Stiles tried to keep the dread in his chest under control because panic would do them little good. Running screaming into the street might feel good short term but it wouldn't help their situation.

“What will we do after that?” Scott grabbed his bags and one of the beat up bikes, carrying them easily up the stairs to their room.

“We will have to do some yard work tomorrow. We need to get out early and hit some of the posher neighborhoods. We need money for rent, food, and the jeep.”

“Posher? Did you really just use the word posher in a sentence?”

“Ha Ha. Can you focus? We need money, preferably before the Hale Pack finds us on their territory.” Stiles shook his head and followed his best friend into the hotel room. 

 

It was pouring when Stiles woke up the next morning, looking out the window with a sinking heart. No way would they get a yard job today, and if the rain continued it might mess up tomorrow as well. Pulling a Ziploc out of his pocket he eyed the remainder of their money: eleven dollars and seventy – two cents.

Scott peeked out from his nest of sheets and blankets. “It's raining so we can't work. Why're you outta bed?” 

“I'm going to run to the store to get us some food.”

“’Kay,” and Scott disappeared back under the covers. 

Pulling his hood over his head, Stiles biked out into the drizzling rain. He could stand getting a little wet more than he could take a hungry werewolf. Scott had become more adept had handling the change, but hunger made him edgy and he lost control more easily on an empty belly. In a small town with a known pack, being outed would be...bad. Like being hit by an asteroid the size of Texas bad. 

Fortunately the grocery store was only a few blocks away so Stiles still had a few dry patches on him when he entered the building. The air conditioner caused his breath to hitch as shivers racked his thin frame and rattled his teeth.

He worked his way quickly down the aisles: a loaf of bread, cheap cereal, and as much sliced meats as he could afford. He hoped it was enough to last a couple of days. Sighing, he knew if the rain didn't break they would be screwed. His free hand rubbing nervously at his hair, he pushed down the constant building panic that had been growing since the jeep started to falter the day before. It was getting harder and harder for Stiles to keep Scott safe, but he couldn’t, wouldn’t, let his friend down

Deep in his depressing thoughts, Stiles found himself in line behind an older woman. Soon enough it was his turn to watch as his items bleeped across the scanner, the display quickly ticking upward and ending just under his zip locked amount. Sighing in relief he pulled out the worn bag, hardly noticing when a tall dark-haired man joined the line behind him.   
“Derek Hale, how have you been?” The teenaged checker smiled and gave her hair a flirty toss.

Stiles’ hands gave a panicked twitch sending his money, the majority made of coins, skittering across the floor. How common could the name Hale be? Glancing at the taller man Stiles saw him lift his chin, nose widening as he scented the air. The same motion Scott made when encountering something that drew his attention.

Crap, crap, crap, did I put on enough of the herb mixture to hide our smell? Did the rain wash it off? What if he can smell Scott on me? Shit, I’ve just gotten my best friend killed. Stiles brain went into over drive as he dove after his spinning coins. 

Heartbeat pounding in his ears, his pulse hammering so hard he could feel it in his hair follicles; Stiles turned his attention back to the cashier. “Sorry, what's my total?” Stomach dropping, he counted out the money. Only a little over seven dollars remained. He didn’t want to waste time crawling on the floor. Didn’t dare hope that his luck would hold out and the Hale wolf would not pick up Scott’s scent. “Sorry, could you take off the cereal. I'm a little short.” 

Derek watched the boy fumble with his money. His jacket, obviously meant for a smaller build, tugged upward revealing wrists that were too bony for the boy’s frame. Upon closer inspection, Derek could see the sharp edges of the boy’s collar bones. Too skinny. Too thin. 

Mahogany brown eyes darted back, glancing at but never meeting Derek’s stare. Blood flowed into the boy’s face and his heart created a frantic deafening sound. Derek would not have been surprised if the humans could hear it. Why was this boy in such a panic?

The checker voided the cereal. “It's eight dollars and fifty-two cents.

Ears reddening further Stiles mumbled. “Could you take off one of the meats?” He knew he had to calm down. His fear would alert the wolf. There was no reason to panic. Stiles breathed in through his nose and let it out slowly. Fear and embarrassment raged in his thin frame. On the bright side, he now knew what one of the wolves looked like. Now if only he could get out of this alive.

“Put the cereal back on. Just bag it and I will take care of it.” The voice was deep. A rumble. Dark and warm and oh shit from the mouth of a Hale Pack wolf. For the first time Stiles found himself looking into Derek's eyes. Mouth dry. He barely remembered to mumble a soft “Thank you.” 

“I can pay you back.” Stiles hugged the plastic bag to his chest, and then slowly offered it to the green eyed man. At his curt shake of his head, Stiles tucked the bag into his pocket. Slowly he took a step back, angling his body toward the door.

“Not necessary.” Derek looked again at the boy. Wet jacket, a shiver that he couldn't hide, panic and fear clouding his eyes. An alpha’s main job was to protect and this boy was pulling at every string he had. “It's raining harder. Do you need a ride?”

As soon as the offer left his mouth he could see it was the wrong thing to say. A rush of babbled excuses, another round of gushing thanks, and the boy was fleeing out the door and into the rain. 

It wasn't until he was back in his own car that the strangeness of the boy hit him: there had been no base scent. The brown haired boy had reeked of panic, smelled of rain, but there was no base scent. Nothing that let his wolf know what he was. It was almost as if the boys scent had been erased which was very strange.

Stiles peddled as if his life depended on it. And, duh, he thought, it just might. Getting off the main sidewalk, he took a longer route back to the hotel. One that included a puddle that coated his pants with muck from his hips down.

A muddy, soaking, heaving mess, Stiles returned to the room to find Scott still asleep under his nest of blankets. “Wake up sleepy wolf. Lunch is here.” Stiles tossed the bag onto the small table as he made his way toward the shower. “It’s compliments of the Hale Pack.”

The bed erupted, sheets and pillows flying in all directions as Scott forced his way out of the tangled mess. Yellowed eyes, a hint of fang. “The hell?”

“The Hale Pack. I ran into one of their members at the store. Tall, dark haired, broody eye brows.” Entering the shower he tried to ignore the panic in his chest and the string of cursing from the bedroom.

The next day Stiles glanced down from his position on the ladder to watch Scott weeding the large jungle like front garden. They had spent the first part of the morning knocking on doors looking for work. Grey haired and spry, Mrs. Grayson had taken one look at them and offered them a job of weeding and cleaning her gutters. 

“Lemonade?” Stiles and Scott both scrambled for the tray. Cold glasses filled with lemonade and plates of cookies were on a large tray.

“Thanks, Mrs. Grayson”, Scott mumbled around his cookie. Stiles took a single cookie leaving the rest for Scott.

“Do you know anyone else who would need some work done? We're almost finished here.” 

“You could ask the Whittemores as their usual yard boy left for college and they have not hired anyone else yet.”

A plate of cookies, thousands of weeds, and cash shoved in Stiles’ back pocket had the boys peddling their way down the street looking for their next job. Scott stood by the bikes as Stiles knocked on the door. Mrs. Grayson had called ahead and Mrs. Whittemore offered him the job as soon as she opened the door.

Stiles’ smile slipped as he saw Scott’s wolfing out face: nostrils flared, eyes flashing between brown and amber, facial hair growing in thick. Shit, just shit. They did not need this now. “What is it? You need to pull it together. We need to finish this.”

“Wolf. One lives here.” Scott’s amber eyes darted over the property. Looking for danger, knowing that by entering another wolf's territory he was endangering both himself and Stiles. “We need to leave. Now.”

“No! You are wearing your herbs and unless he pulls up while we are in the yard and smells you up close and personal, we will be fine. Scott, we need the money.” 

Scott looked at his friend nodding. “Let's work fast. We shouldn't be here. Not this close to his family. This is....”he shook his head, trying to sort instinct into words. “An invasion. Like Mars Attacks or something.”

“So, if we play bad county, yodeling music we should be safe?” Seeing Scott’s serious look stiles dialed back the teasing. “I get it. It's hostile, us being here in his front yard is worse than us being in town.” 

“Being in town could be forgiven. They'd beat the shit out of me, well if they didn't find out about you and me being hunters.” Scott ignored Stiles quickly inserted "ex" and continued. “But being this close to a member’s family, it's like declaring war.”

Stiles made sure to apply the scent blocking herbs to them both twice. Okay, so maybe he was a little worried; but the yard was finished without any major incidents. Maybe their luck would hold until they got the jeep fixed and put this town firmly in their rear view mirror.

The next day dawned with Jackson and Derek sniffing his front yard. “If I hadn't checked the mail I would have never smelled their scent.” Jackson was human form but Derek knew his hackles would be up as a beta. 

“Did you ask your mom about who was here?”

“She said two boys did the yard work because Mrs. Grayson recommended them.” Jackson prowled the edges of his yard his growls, low and angry, came off him in waves. Derek remembered the boy with no scent. The one that had been so very afraid in the store. Thin, desperate, alone. 

“We have an omega in our territory. Maybe two. They’ve been hiding their scent from us somehow, but we need to find them anyway. 

“So we find them and kill them.” Jackson’s hands shifted between clawed and human. Fangs exposed as he talked. 

“No, we'll speak with them and maybe offer them a place in the pack.” Cuffing Jackson gently, and then wiping his look of rebellion away with a smile of understanding. “Let's see why they’re alone. Our pack is still small; we could use some new wolves.”

A quick pack meeting had the rest of the wolves on the lookout. 

Ericka and Isaac crossed paths with Stiles at the Wal-Mart. The teen fit their alpha’s description but there was no wolf scent on him. Pressing up against him in the aisle they took in his scent. Smelling nothing beyond human, a flash of fear, and a green, woodsy scent they moved on.

Racing back to the hotel, Stiles found Scott finishing off the last of their food. A bottomless pit with fur lining. “I ran into the Wonder Twins of the wolf world.” 

“Huh?” Scott shoved the last of his sandwich into his mouth. He sat shirtless and freshly showered at the small hotel table. “Sorry, I need more background information.”

“Remember, the old cartoons we used to watch. The ones your mom gave us?” Scott’s eyes clouded briefly in sorrow at the memory of his mother but he nodded. “They would bump fists and change their shape. These two are like that except it would be more like, 'shape of a slutty, hoe beast, with attack cleavage'.” 

Seeing Scott's expression, Stiles tried to lighten the mood. “Hey, at least we know three of the six wolves. Easier to avoid them.”

 

Saturday evening had the boys tumbling into their room, collapsing onto their beds. They were covered in sweat, grass clippings, and muck. “I feel like a swamp monster.” Scott raised his head to look at his friend. His family, not by blood but choice. His only pack. The more he settled into his wolf, the more he understood the need for pack. Stiles kept him from being alone. He was a weak beta to Stiles’ human alpha but it was pack. Better than alone. Better than omega.

“We did well today. How much money did we make?” Stiles pulled a large wad of money from his pocket, tossing it onto Scott’s bed. Flipping through the bills, Scott smiled.” Can I spread it on the bed and roll in it?”

An exhausted snort and a thrown pillow was his reply. Stiles could hardly move, and without any cool wolf healing powers, his body felt like it was a giant knot of pulled muscles and pain.

“Hey, why don't you sleep and I will get dinner.” Tucking a few bills in his front pocket, Scott left the rest of the money in Stiles’ pack. Turning, he tucked a sheet around his sleeping friend and quietly left the room.

Rays of sunshine pouring through the open window slowly awakened Stiles. One eye reluctantly opened while the other was sealed by crusty gunk and refused to join the 'we are awake' party; unlike his stomach which let the whole room know with a loud rumble. “Scott, I thought you were going to get diner. Did you eat it all? Again?” 

Pushing up, shoulders burning, he left a greenish imprint on the sheets as he came to his feet. “Scott?” The room was empty and Scott’s bike was gone. No note. Nothing. His blood pounded in his head, darkening his vision; breathe gasping around the clenching pain in his chest. Reaching out, Stiles grabbed the back of the chair, barely staying upright. 

Scott was gone. No, it was worse: Scott had never come back and Stiles hadn’t known because he just slept through it.


	5. End of the Road

Lifting the cover of the spare tire compartment, Stiles gathered his old hunting weapons that he had kept far away from Scott because they were vicious and deadly to werewolves: Wolf's bane oiled daggers and arrow tips, and aerosol canisters filled with the flower's essence to be used like smoke bombs. He piled his old hunter's pack to the top, zipping it and flinging it over his shoulder.

Large black pack strapped tightly to his back, he peddled toward the Hale Pack house which was tucked deep in the forest. Reaching the tree line near the property turn off, he hide his bike under a clump of dead fall and worked his way silently through the woods. Footsteps silent, moving with deadly grace, Stiles approached the house. By the time he reached the structure the sun was setting, causing the trees to cast long dappled shadows across the forest floor.

Approaching the Hale house, Stiles dropped to his knees and crawled as close as he could get. The light from the porch revealed six wolves. Derek, skin pale in the waning light, gestured with one hand. "He's not alone. We need to find the other one. Ericka and I will head back to town to see if we can locate him. See if you can get more out of that one." With a smooth stride he bounded down the porch and into his dark colored car.

Stiles ducked deeper into the brush as the lights of the car washed over him as it pulled out the drive. Two less wolves to deal with. Creeping closer, Stiles could hear the voices of the other wolves as they argued. They had become complacent; a year ago there would have been guards on lookout.

Inside, Scott thrashed against his bindings, feeling the chains slowly giving under the constant twisting he had been applying the last few hours. Amber eyes glowed from beneath his thick bangs as he stared as his captors entered the room.

"Tell us where he is." Jackson snarled into his face, spittle landing in droplets along Scott's cheek. With a final wrench of the metal, Scott surged upward and raked his claws along Jackson's torso before turning, the chain flowing behind him in a deadly arch and picking up speed until Scott slammed the heavy end into Jackson's face. He crumbled at his feet with blood pouring down his face from his broken nose.

Head down, Scott lunged toward Isaac and hit the curly haired wolf in the sternum with his shoulder. Lifting upward, Scott tried to throw him over his back but Isaac regained his balance, twisting in mid air to land on his feet, claws out and impaling Scott's arm.

The razor sharp claws cut easily through both cloth and skin as Isaac clung to the lone wolf, forcing him backwards, deeper into the room. Cloth ripping, he pinned the shorter wolf's arm behind him, and then froze. "It's a hunter's mark. He has a hunters mark!" With Scott's shirt sleeve torn from his body, the arrow brand was plainly visible to all.

Using the shock of his hunter heritage to his advantage, Scott threw off Isaac's hold and ran for the front door, practically tearing it from its hinges in his attempt to escape. Stumbling down the porch's stairs he ran straight into Stiles.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Scott could hear the wolves regrouping behind him. "Run." They dashed for the tree line as howls pierced the air. Chest heaving, lungs burning, Stiles struggled to keep up with Scott. He could tell Scott was slowing his pace, keeping just ahead of Stiles to lead the way into the darkness.

A crash behind him alerted Stiles to the pack's approach. Reaching over his back he grabbed a canister and pulled the pin. Tossing it, smoke billowing from its opening, Stiles redoubled his efforts.

"Where's the jeep?" Amber eyes reflected the moon light with an eerie flash as Scott lifted his head to sniff the wind and sneezed. "I remember liking the smell of Wolf's bane."

"I remember you used to not have a uni-brow. Let's move, flea bag." Stiles headed deeper into the forest spreading herbs behind him at regular intervals.

"Where's the jeep Stiles?"

"Still at the motel. I had to take the bike." Stiles didn't need super wolf hearing to pick up the string of curses that left Scott's mouth. "Listen, the jeep is a non issue. It's dead. I have the money. It will be enough for bus tickets to the next town.

Scott grabbed Stiles arm pulling him to a stop just as the howls echoed through the trees, causing goose bumps along Stiles' arms. "Shit, they're getting closer."

"Scott, don't quit. They can't track us by scent. We have to keep going." Giving his friend a hard shove between his shoulders, he continued to run. He could feel his muscles quiver, turning to worthless jelly beneath his skin." Don't quit," he whispered under his breath. Scott called "I won't," but Stiles had been talking to himself.

The howls were getting closer as their lead shortened until wolf calls came from their left and right. "They're closing the net, Stiles, faster!" Scott dropped back and grabbed Stiles' arm, trying desperately to add to his humanly slow speed. Blocking their scents would slow the wolves down but they were still in their territory and it would not be long before they were cornered.

Stiles stumbled, falling and tumbling into a clearing. Struggling to his feet his mind stuttered as a familiar sight met his exhausted stare. A large pine had fallen, creating an empty space around it. He had a sudden flashback to another clearing in the woods, one filled with lifeless bodies of his fellow hunters. Soundlessly, Derek and Ericka entered the clearing across from him. Shit, I guess we will be adding those lifeless bodies now.

Letting the pack slide from his back, Stiles grabbed a long dagger and his small cross bow. Pressing his shoulder against Scott, they faced the alpha, defiant, seriously bad ass. Okay, they were scared shitless. "I thought he left? I know I heard his car pull out."

"Phones, use you wolfie brain."

"Hunters?" The alpha growled, eyes flashing crimson. "You're hunters?" Their only response was to attack. Stiles fired his first arrow into Ericka's arm, pinning her to a tree. His next two shots entered her wrist and upper thigh, effectively removing her from battle.

Scott threw himself at the alpha, aiming for his throat with claws and teeth and the raging attack had him backing up a few steps. Howls alerted the boys of the approach of the rest of the pack. With the alpha occupied, Stiles turned to face his next attacker.

Dark skin blending into the forest shadows so that only his eyes showed clearly, a huge wolf entered the fray. Grip tightening on his blade, Stiles looked up at the looming wolf. Not a David, but a Goliath. Crouched low, his blade weaving patterns in the air, Stiles backed further into the clearing. Motion caught his eye and he ducked just in time to miss being struck by Scott as he was thrown through the air.

Recovering quickly from his trip through the air, courtesy of an angry alpha, Scott fought off the advances of the giant, dark skinned wolf. Stiles looked up at Derek whose eyes were flashing alpha red. I'd rather face Goliath! Adjusting his stance, Stiles felt his knee give slightly. He took a stumbling step to the right to regain his balance.

Adrenaline could only last so long. Stiles lunged, blade low, swinging downward toward the pack leader's legs. Derek didn't even seem to move but he was no longer in the spot Stiles had aimed for. "Fucking fight fair," Stiles gritted through his teeth. Slashing overhand, his form sloppy as his energy drained from his body, Stiles made another attack. Using his forearm Derek blocked the blow as he clawed Stiles unguarded side.

Clutching his wounded ribs, blood soaking his tee, Stiles struggled to remain upright. He stumbled across the clearing before turning to face the alpha. The blade of the sword planted in the dirt before him to supply extra balance, he tried to ready himself for the next attack.

Stile glanced at Scott who was now fighting two wolves. His friend's body was awash with blood. Stiles could hear the wet pants. Most likely a pierced lung, Stiles thought. If they could get to safety, it would heal. It was at that moment that the rest of the pack entered the clearing. "All hail the packs all here." Six against two. Oh they were so screwed.

Derek moved. One minute he was far enough away that Stiles should have had a chance to counter attack and the next moment he had a fist around Stiles' collar and was slamming him to his knees. Disarming Stiles with an elegant loop that had Stiles gasping in pain, Derek threw back his head, chest out, arms spread and howled a demand to obey and submit. The howl drove Scott to his knees along with three of Derek's own wolves. Silence descended except for their harsh panting breath.

"Take him back to the house. Put him in the safe room." Derek's voice rumbled, heavy with command, leaving no room for questions or disagreement. The pack gathered a stunned Scott and then left the clearing.

Derek stepped closer and placed a clawed hand to the top of Stiles' head. He had a sudden memory of Chasseur dying on his knees before an alpha. "No!" Stiles rasped, coming to his feet. "I won't die on my knees." He wasn't proud of either the tremble in his voice or the fear evident in his heartbeat, but he was on his feet looking the alpha in the eye.

Derek lifted the corner of his mouth, an elongated fang peaking over the edge of his lip. It was either a smile or a snarl, Stiles couldn't tell. "Why are you here, Hunter? Why have you entered my territory?"

"My jeep broke down. And I'm an ex-hunter." Stiles turned slowly in place as Derek paced around him.

"Ex? And how long have you been an ex- hunter." Derek moved faster than Stiles could turn without toppling. Reaching out he clasped Stiles by the back of the neck, clawed thumb rest behind his ear.

Voice cracking, knees threatening to give, Stiles replied, "Since my friend was bitten. I couldn't let him die." Fingers trailing across the back of his neck and slowly to his throat, Derek completed his circuit around the boy.

"You're on your own? No family? No pack?"

"What pack would take us? And any hunter families left would kill Scott on sight." Derek grew still, eyes distant. "Could you hurry this up? Waiting for my messy, painful death is kinda intense. I mean, you're gonna kill me, do you have to torture me with a long wait before? Did I forget to take a number? How long do I have to wait in line?"

The alpha's lip did its little lift and flash of fang. Yep, it's a smile. Grabbing Stiles by the shoulder, he guided him through the woods back towards the pack house with a warm hand on Stiles' lower back. The last of the adrenaline drained from Stiles' body. He reached for a tree but missed and found himself falling backwards to the ground. The moon was a silver crescent above the leaves, blocked suddenly by a pair of blue green eyes. What color is that, was the last coherent mental burble before darkness claimed Stiles.

Derek found himself admiring the courage of the young hunter. Ex hunter. Outnumbered, over powered, and defeated, but never cowering.

Walking behind him, he could see the energy and strength leaving the boy's thin frame so he was not surprised when the teenager fell to the ground.

Leaning over him he caught a mumbled comment about color as the brown eyes fluttered closed. Sliding an arm under his shoulders Derek lifted Stiles into a sitting position against his chest. His shoulder blades were bony and thin. Wrapping his other arm beneath his legs, Derek lifted him up off the forest floor. The boy was at least twenty pound lighter than his frame should weigh. Derek could feel the ridges of each rib against his chest as he carried the boy toward his house.

Stiles' head hung limply over Derek's arm. The white column of his throat exposed and vulnerable. Somehow, even knowing he was a hunter (ex or not), Derek felt the need to protect as strongly as he felt for the rest of his pack.

Derek found his pack outside his house, a struggling Scott, arms pinned behind him by Jackson and Boyd on his knees. Seeing Stiles' limp form he whined, high pitched, panicked. "Oh god, Stiles, no! Let me go! Stiles." His feet struggled to find purchase in the lawn, struggled to rise, to protect his family.

"Be still." Growled and backed with a touch of alpha command had Scott drooping between the betas. "He's alive."

Scott's eyes searched the alphas face. "Please, we'll leave. Just let us go. You'll never see or hear of us again."

Derek nodded to Boyd. "Take him to the safe room. Make sure he's locked in tightly. I don't want any more excitement tonight. Isaac, bring the first aid kit and some cuffs up to the guest room." Moving past his pack, sure in the knowledge his orders would be followed, Derek carried the young hunter up the stairs.

Laying Stiles across the bed, Derek quickly tore off the rest of his shirt to ascertain the damage. The four gashes across his ribs were shallow and would not need stitches but in the bright light of the room there was no hiding the proof of Stiles' trials.

The boy was nothing but bones held together by a layer of skin. The lone wolf was not malnourished so it had to be voluntary on the human's part. He had gone without so that his friend would have enough. Werewolves had a much higher calorie need than normal humans, the shift requiring extra energy. From collar bones to hips bones, all sharp and jutting, told the story of Stiles' last year on the road.

Derek's eyes flashed red. This was the end of the road for this lost pair. They were now under his protection. 

Whether they liked it or not.


	6. Which End is Up?

A burning throb along his ribs and the insistent urge of his bladder woke Stiles. He reached to touch his burning side but was stopped by a chain connecting his arm to the bed post. Fun, chained to a bed. Not kinky at all. Stiles rolled to his side before gingerly sitting up, taking a mental check of his body and surroundings. His body was cleaned and patched; his surroundings were neat and tidy. If it wasn't for the manacle linking him to the head board it could have been mistaken for a fancy bed and breakfast.

Stiles focused his attention on the cuff. It was loose around his wrist giving him enough room to twist his hand free, leaving just the smallest amounts of skin and blood behind. Now to find Scott and get out of here. Where ever here was. Standing, a wave of dizziness made him sway on his feet.

"You're awake," the blond, curly haired wolf stood right outside the doorway. It was one of the Wal-Mart wolves, dressed in his best bad boy leather. Looks like the daring rescue will have to wait.

"Did your razor sharp wolf senses tell you that?" Stiles ignored the responding snarl, having learned from Scott the difference between annoyed rumbles and 'your life is over' growls. The wolf eyed the chains on the bed. Stiles shrugged his shoulders. "Your security sucks". He let the cuff drop to the bed as he walked to the bathroom.

"We weren't going to keep you like that." The young wolf followed Stiles across the room swinging the key around his finger. "If you had just waited..." he trailed off with a smirk, keys dangling in Stiles' face. "Breakfast is almost ready. Derek wants you downstairs."

"And I could give a naked mole rat's ass about what Derek wants." Stiles said as he slammed the door in the wolf's face. Holding onto the sink, Stiles tried to get himself under control because he would need all his wits to get out of this one. Looking at his reflection he succumbed to a moment of despair: What am I going to do?Eyes closed, fists closed at his side, he pulled himself together. Scott needed him. He would not let him down.

Exiting the bathroom and moved into the younger wolf's space. "Where's my friend? I want to see him now.

The wolf stepped back two steps before realizing he was yielding to a human. "He's downstairs if you want to see him..." He said, gesturing toward the stairs.

"You might want to work on finishing a sentence," Stiles grumbled on his way down the stairs. The smell of food had him staggering the last couple of steps as his stomach tried to lead the way toward the kitchen. The rest of the pack milled around the large room, but Stiles' eyes immediately sought out Scott.

Hunched over the table, Scott looked tired but whole. Upon seeing Stiles, he leaped to his feet and bounded across the distance. "Stiles!" Scott actually lifted him off the ground in a crushing hug. Nose pressed to the curve of Stiles' neck he breathed in a deep lung full of his pack mate's scent. "You're okay."

Stiles had become accustomed to touchy-feely Scott in the months since being turned, but having his friend pressed so tightly to his front while a strange pack watched made Stiles uncomfortable. Running his hand through Scott's hair, Stiles gently untangled himself from the werewolf's embrace.

The center point of the room was a large table covered with breakfast dishes. Stiles' stomach was ready to annex itself from the rest of his body at the sight of all the food. It let out an embarrassingly loud rumble that had the wolves smirking. Derek placed the last covered dish in the center and sat at the head of the table. With a foot Derek nudged the chair to his right and nodded toward Stiles. "Sit."

The rest of the pack quickly took the remaining seats, pulling Scott along with them. Stiles remained standing his eyes locked with Derek's. Stiles clenched his fists at his side. The savory smell of breakfast made his head spin. "Don't play games with me."

Derek turned his attention to the food. Taking a plate full of scrambled eggs, he placed a large helping on his plate, then a scoop on Stiles' plate before passing it to a red haired wolf. "There's no game, Stiles. It's just breakfast". He repeated his serving pattern with the next platter.

Once all the food was passed, Derek shot Stiles a patient glance before lifting a forkful of egg to his lips. On that signal the rest of the wolves started eating with relish except for Scott. "Stiles," he pleaded.

Stiles took his seat, planning to sit stoically and glare at the alpha but found himself inhaling his plate full of food instead. After scraping the last forkful of hash browns, Stiles noticed the table was silent and he could feel his ears redden. Derek gave Stiles another serving of eggs and placed the last piece of bacon from his own plate onto Stiles' dish  


The rest of the pack went back to eating. "I think I am owed an explanation by the ex-hunter who entered my territory unannounced."

"I don't owe you anything" Stiles growled. "We were in town and towns are supposed to be neutral space. We would have been out in a couple of more days."

"Those rules were from before your little Hunter War. You broke the Code. So I'm asking you again, nicely, why are you in my territory?

"Why haven't you just killed us?" Stiles stared at his plate, taking even breaths, trying to keep his heart beat calm. "Isn't that what you do? Kill?" Stiles regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth. Not because of the angry cast of Derek's face or the growls from the pack, but because of the way Scott reacted to them. Scott's body slumped minutely, wilting under the harsh words of his only anchor in this chaotic world because Scott knew that like the wolves surrounding him, he was a monster, a killer if given the chance. Stiles swallowed understanding too late how his words would sound to Scott.

"Unlike hunters, I don't kill children."

"We're not children," Stiles growled back.

"Stiles," Scott warned, "just shut up". Stiles bit his lower lip, flesh parting from the press of teeth, the taste of copper briefly coating his tongue.

"So why bring us here? You could have run us off or worse. What do you want from us?"

"The truth." Derek leaned back in his chair, arms crossed in front of his chest.

"What truth?"

"Why you're here in Beacon Hills."

Stiles let out a broken laugh. He shot Scott a slightly manic smile, who shrugged, gesturing for Stiles to take the lead. "Short version. Our jeep broke down. We are trying to scrape money together to get it fixed so we can leave. That's our truth."

During Stiles' short speech, Derek had leaned forward, palms resting on the table. His gaze followed Stiles pulse, as he listened and watched for a change in heart beat. Hearing only the truth, he leaned back in his chair.

"Your jeep gets fixed then what do you do? Keep running until you burn out or slip up again and get caught by another pack". Derek looked at Stiles, as if searching for something, and then nodded to himself. "No more running. You are both staying here.

"We're not strays that you can just take in off the street. We do have a say in where we live."

Derek raised a single eyebrow and left the room. "Hey", Stiles called after him, "you can't just dictate our lives with your eyebrows". Confusion etched on his face, he turned back to the kitchen full of wolves. Scott was pale with worry and the rest just returned his stare.

The next few days were awkward but uneventful. After breakfast, Derek called for twice daily training with Scott after finding he was woefully lacking of any wolf instincts. "How the hell have you survived a whole year? You don't know how to use any of your senses. You have the worst control I have ever seen." Scott seems to shrink in on himself, not meeting Derek's eyes.

While the boys were allowed to move freely about the Hale property, they were never without a wolf companion. Derek seemed to be around everywhere; brushing shoulders or touching the arm of the younger man as they passed in the hallway. Stiles was inundated with snacks: bags of chips, sliced veggies and dip, or a sandwich seemed to appear at his side whenever he sat in one spot for more than a couple of minutes. "Are you trying to fatten me up?" Stiles asked at dinner their second night at the Hale house.

"Yes," Derek replies after giving his thin frame a once over.

By the third day the tension in Stiles' chest was gone. Maybe there was no other shoe to drop. But the more relaxed Stiles become the more Scott withdrew into himself. Anger seemed to boil just below his friend's skin. "What is it?" Stiles asked after an afternoon practice. "You seem to be getting worse. You had better control when we were on the road."

"I don't want this! They act like this is a gift but it's a curse. I'm a monster. At least when I was with you I could pretend I was still human, still clean, but with all them around me I can feel myself slipping. I'm losing myself!"

"You're not losing yourself." Derek interrupted their conversation, joining them on the porch.

"Can we even have a conversation without a guard?" Stiles came to his feet between Derek and Scott. The need to stand up to the alpha was confusing but too strong to ignore.

"No!" Derek took a half step toward Stiles before turning back to Scott. "You're not losing yourself. You're finding the connection to the pack. If you would stop fighting it would come easier." He walked past them, fingers brushing Stiles shoulder as he passed.

Later that night, Scott slipped a piece of paper into Stiles' hand, his plans to escape with or without his friend written out with shaky script. The sudden feeling of loss surprised Stiles. Why should his leaving the Hale Pack cause his chest to tighten? Just fear or nerves, he thought as he reworked Scott's plan. Can't let my idiot wolf go off on his own.

Tomorrow they would be back to running.


	7. The Beginning of the End

Stiles stared at Scott from across the McDonald's booth, his third refill of coke half empty before him. One city away, that's how far their escape money had taken them, one crap-tastic city away from Beacon Hill and the Hale Pack. The city of Taylor was a little bigger than Beacon Hill and apparently didn't have a train because there was no good side of the tracks here. Just bad, worse, and 'oh God, I'm gonna die'. Their McDonald's was firmly located in the third category but as it was just across the street from the bus stop, it had made the best safety hideout for the boys until the sun came up.

"Scott, I don't think this was the best idea." In fact, in the long history of ideas and plans that Stiles had come up with, this had to be the worst. In sheer stupidity it even beat trying to parachute out his second story window with his sheet when he was seven. "At least we were safe there. The Hale Pack wasn't so bad." Not bad, it had been good, really good and Stiles was feeling its loss.

Scott looked feral, his eyes darting to Stiles and then away. "You don't know what it's like. When I was with them, I was losing myself. I could feel the wolf more and more. When it's just you, I can stay human. Stiles, I don't want to turn into a monster."

"You weren't! You were just learning how to be a werewolf and how to use your gifts." Stiles couldn't understand why Scott was so adverse to living with the pack.  
Snarling, Scott grabbed Stiles' arm, claws drawing pinpricks of blood. "It's not a gift! Don't you see? Even you are falling into that trap. Are you just going to give up everything we were ever taught? Are you turning you back on who we are?"

Not having an answer, Stiles remained silent. Tugging his arm away from Scott he turned and watched the sun rise over the city. Who we were, Stiles thought.  
They headed out into the city with the sun rise. Stiles' brain held nothing but static, no plans, no snappy comment or silly jokes, just a droning buzz that was slowly gathering in intensity. It made his skin twitchy and tight.

"'Scuse me." A blue minivan pulled up beside them with a curly haired soccer type mom at the wheel. "I am terribly turned around. I'm looking for the bus stop. Can you boys help me?"

Ever helpful, Stiles found himself leaning into the window giving directions. "We just came from there. It's just down this street about four blocks." It was the flare of her nose, the slight tilting of her head to the side as she scented him that warned him. But it was too late. The soccer wolf locked her fingers around Stiles' wrist pushing back his sleeve, exposing the arrow brand. "Scott, run!" Letting his feet drop beneath him and twisting, Stiles broke free of the wolf's grip and darted off.

Behind him three wolves erupted out of the side door of the van. Catching Scott at the end of the block, Stiles gasped, "How did you not smell them? Isn't that something you should be able to do by now."

Scott lead Stiles down a side ally blocked by a chicken wire fence. Grabbing Stiles by the waist band he boosted him over the fence and followed with a graceful leap. "I didn't think about it. I don't just pick up scents unless I try." He gave a sheepish shrug. "Sorry."

Snagging Stiles by the arm, Scott pulled him along toward an abandoned strip center, windows boarded or broken, a hollow husk of rusting buildings. Behind them they could hear the rattle of the fence as the wolves closed upon their location. The blue van peeled around a corner, blocking the boys line of escape.

Stiles picked up a rusted piece of rebar from the ground. Twisted and jagged, it was three feet of steel and pain. Hopefully wolf pain and not my pain. Flanked on three sides by attacking wolves, the boys found themselves back to back, their hunter training taking over. Except for the claws. Stiles felt his heart rate slow, finding that place of calm needed in battle so that one could anticipate an opponent's move.

"Been awhile since I've seen a hunter in these parts." The smallest wolf smirked at Stiles, crouching down slightly, weight forward on his toes. "The Hale Pack wants you alive but that doesn't mean I can't make you bleed." Lunging, the wolf brought himself right in range of Stiles' swing. Blocked by the wolf's wrist, the rebar caused a sickening crunch that had the man backing up in pain. Before he had a chance to start healing, Stiles followed with another attack, swinging the steel bar low, aiming for the wolf's knees.

The leap was completely lacking in grace but it cleared the swing and brought the wolf close enough to grab the bar from Stiles' hand. With a circular motion the wolf had Stiles disarmed and pinned to the cracked sidewalk. The knee to his upper back kept him too busy trying to get air in his lungs to struggle much against the wolf. Damn, I miss my bow.  
Unable to see Scott's fight, he could only listen to the growls and snarls taking place behind him. The wet tear of flesh, coupled with Scott's high pitched keen, was all Stiles needed to hear to know their road trip was over. Lifted like garbage being taken to the curb, Stiles was tossed into the back of the minivan. Seconds later a bloody Scott joined him.  
"Careful, Hale wants them alive." Soccer wolf yelled from the front seat.

"He's still breathing; he'll live long enough for the Hale Alpha to have his fun." Stiles pulled himself up next to his friend, the knees of his pants quickly soaking up the blood from Scotts wound; it was everywhere, a warm red pool spreading from his friend. Scott lay on his side; stomach an open gash, raw and jagged.

"Oh, God!" Stiles tried to stanch the flow of blood pouring from his friend. Scott's face was alabaster, his breathing shallow. Pressing sticky, red fingers to his friend's neck, Stiles felt for the reassurance of a beating heart. Pulling Scott closer, Stiles held him while the skin around the gaping wound slowly closed. Watching a werewolf's body mend itself was amazing in an 'I'm two seconds from losing my lunch' sort of way

Wolf amber eyes flickered open. "Stiles?" Scott's complexion was ashy pale, eyes flickering with pain and shock.

"I'm right here." Stiles tightened his grip, trying to keep his friend from moving. "You're not healed yet. Stay still."

"How did they find us? Where are they taking us?" Stiles was wondering the same thing but had no answers for his friend. All he could do was tighten his grip, offering the comfort of his touch.

"We're taking you back to Hale's", called the female wolf. "I don't know what you boys did to piss off Hale but I hope he makes your little hunter asses pay for it. Slow." A rumble of agreement came from the rest of the wolves.

"Hale musta called in every favor he was owed and offered up a few more with the hunt he called out for these two." Looking into the cargo bin of the van, the smaller wolf sent a look of fake pity Stiles' way. "Were you a bad, bad little hunter? Bet he's gonna carve you up nice." The remainder of the trip passed in tense silence. The wolves smug in their thoughts of hunter torture, Scott healing, and Stiles dreading having to face Derek. Beacon Hill was not easy to leave.

The van slowed then fishtailed to a stop throwing Scott against the side of the van. Stiles braced his wounded friend as best he could. The side door opened automatically and the wolves piled out heading immediately for the back. The rear hatch opened and the boys were dragged out and tossed to the ground at Derek's feet.

Stiles stood, pulling Scott up next to him. Smelling blood, Derek growled at the van pooling wolves. "I said I wanted them in one piece."

Soccer wolf tossed her curls as she laughed. "The little hunter Omega is healing. He'll be in one piece soon enough. Our debt is paid, Hale." Turning, she climbed into the minivan and drove away.

Stiles watched it disappear down the road. "So, are you going to kill us Derek?" Stiles couldn't gather the energy to be afraid or angry; instead he was just numb and tired. Scott swayed on his feet, leaning against his friend to stay upright.

Pinching his nose in exasperation, Derek huffed, "No, I'm not going to kill you. But I needed to get you morons back. This was the only way to do it. Let's go". Derek turned and started to walk back to his car, his expectations for Stiles to follow him evident. "Jackson, Boyd, bring Scott along with you." The huge, Goliath imitation wolf and the jock took hold of Scott and supported him as he weaved his way toward a large black truck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the reviews. I post on fanfiction more often than AO3 so more of this story is up over there. But reviews help me remember to post here as well so keep reminding me. Thanks again.


	8. Back to the Beginning

Claws shredded his shirt bare millimeters from his skin as Stiles threw himself backwards and away from his opponent, turning what should have been a fall into a graceful roll that brought him back to his feet, dagger out, ready for the next charge. The drip of sweat down his face was ignored as he focused completely on the blond wolf before him.  
To an untrained eye Isaac's style of fighting appeared almost timid. Moving backwards, he slowly circled Stiles forcing him to constantly turn to keep the wolf in his sights. Isaac sidled forward and then darted back, tempting Stiles into slashing. Using that moment of unbalance, Isaac lunged catching Stiles' arm, knocking the blade away and flipping him to the ground.

Finding himself once again cushioned among the autumn leaves littering the forest floor, Stiles contemplated how fighting style was a true insight into a person. You could hide behind a smile or your words but you could never hide behind your reflexes; and Stiles had found that he could learn the most about a person by how they acted and reacted when their instincts took over.

Stiles took a couple of seconds to relearn how to breathe. He had always been one of the best at hand to hand in the Hunter camps, but sparring against werewolves made him feel like a rank beginner, slow and clumsy. Closing his eyes, he gave himself permission to lay on the ground for a few more seconds, the breeze cool against his face.

The soft rustle of leaves alerted Stiles to Isaac's approach and he opened his eyes. A curly blond head poked itself into Stiles' line of sight, worry creasing his brow and darkening his blue eyes. "Sorry, that was a little rough." He extended his hand to help Stiles stand up bumping against him playfully as Stiles regained his feet.

"Its fine," Stiles said as he gave Isaac a quick pat. Derek was already stalking over from his position on the far side of the ring of trees they used for practice.

Mumbling under his breath something about being careful of the human, Derek cuffed Isaac gently on the back of his head and then turned to Stiles. Strong fingers lightly stroked the torn edges of his shirt as Derek checked Stiles over for injuries. Stiles was sure that every wolf in the clearing could hear his heart accelerate when Derek's fingers brushed his skin, the warmth spreading through his body much too fast for such a quick touch.

In many ways nothing had changed at the Hale House: it was as if they had never tried to escape or been returned like lost luggage tossed at Derek's feet. Stiles still found himself surrounded by wolves every morning, stuffed with bacon and eggs, a broody brow alpha watching his every move, but instead of the nervousness he had felt before his escape, he now found true comfort in the werewolf daily routine.

In other ways, however, Stiles' life was becoming more complicated. Take the Alpha wolf fondling his torn shirt for instance. It was the little things; the brushes of warm fingers against his skin, the extra bacon on his plate, the looks that made his body tingle, this were the things that had him squirming, unsure of what he should do.

Catching Stiles' wide eyed stare, Derek gruffly lead him to the edge, pushing him firmly next to Scott. Sparing and training was an important activity for the pack, one that Stiles and Scott both found very similar to training on the compound. There was a cadence to it, a pace and tempo they moved to in the past. The claws and fangs took a little getting used to but on the whole it was familiar enough they easily fit into the mix.

Stiles watched the match between Erica and Jackson. Erica, blonde and beautiful, moved with reckless abandon. "She always rushes in. Look, she doesn't even take Jackson's stance into account. Being quick is not always helpful in a fight." Stiles pointed out quietly, bumping his shoulder against Scott to draw his attention to the other wolves' bout. Sparring matches were an excellent way to help his friend with his wolf control problems. If Scott would just pay attention to the lessons and not brood all the time, he might actually get better at the whole werewolf thing.

In contrast to Erica's wild attacks, Jackson the male model wanna be, was strategic in his movements. He watched his opponent carefully, weighing each advance with a critical eye. Jackson let Erica control the fight, keeping just out of her reach, dodging fast enough to miss each slash of her claws. "I bet he's going to do that flippy thing, the one where he catches them at the chest and flips them on their back." Jackson's biggest weakness was his lack of creativity in his attacks. Stiles pretty much had them all labeled at this point. But "flippy thing" was his favorite move.

Sure enough, Erica thrust forward over reaching herself and was quickly flipped and pinned by Jackson. Laughing amongst the leaves, Erica turned to Stiles. "Flippy thing? How did you know?"

Stiles spread his hands, smug smile on his lips as he shook his head. "So very sorry, I cannot share my genius secrets on Jackson's fighting techniques. He'd eat me."  
"Damn straight" Jackson growled but it was backed with a small smile.

"Boyd, Scott, you're up!" Derek waved the next into the ring as he walked over to give Erica and Jackson advice on their match. Scott was so getting his ass kicked today, Stiles thought as Boyd moved into the circle, his teeth bared in a quick grin of anticipation.

By first glance, one would think that Boyd would lumber; his sheer mass could be used as a weapon of intimidation, but he was more than muscle; he was speed and planning, brains and brawn. Boyd was, except for Derek, the deadliest of the pack's fighters. Stiles had looked up at the huge wolf his first time sparring against him and yelled, "Oh, hell and fish sticks, no! There is only one way to face an attacker like Boyd." In response to Derek's questioning brow, a sharp point of black, he dashed off into the woods leaving the dark-skinned wolf behind.

Scott entered the ring, circling Boyd and looking for an opening. Boyd turned slowly to keep the younger wolf in sight but made no move to attack, waiting to see what Scott would do.

Unlike the other wolves, Scott didn't use his claws when attacking. Instead he still fought like a hunter, a human, using a dagger so that he could slash out with one hand and punch with the other. His wolf speed and strength added a deadly edge to these attacks that no opponent save someone with supernatural abilities could hope to counter. Stiles knew this as fact. After the first set of stitches across Stiles' chest, Derek had declared that Scott and Stile couldn't spar until Scott learned some control.

"Come on, Scott!" Stiles cheered for his friend but the fight didn't last much longer than the echoes of his cheers through the trees. Scott scored a thin scratch with his blade across Boyd's shoulder before being taken out with a rake of sharp claws against his ribs, forcing him down and back, even as the skin began to heal.

Derek offered Scott a hand up but was refused. "I'm fine!" Scott stalked off to the far side of the ring, arms crossed as he leaned aggressively against a tree. It was a first for Stiles: he had never seen aggressive leaning but apparently Scott had it down.

"Stiles come on. You are up against me," Derek called.

"Can I just throw myself on the ground and look stupid? It will save you the trouble." Stiles joined Derek in the center, nerves tingling as he faced the Alpha. Taking a deep breath he pulled his dagger out of its sheath.

Still warm from his bout with Isaac, Stiles lunged forward to see if he could get Derek off balance. The alphas only response was a single raised eyebrow and what loosely could be called a grin, the slightest lift of one side of his lips. Stiles found his attention constantly drawn to the way Derek filled out his shirt, muscles visible beneath the thin fabric, swelling with each rise and fall of his chest.

"Ready?" Derek questioned, his smile widening just the smallest amount as Stiles had to force himself to stop looking at his body. Stiles had barely finished nodding when Derek moved in for the attack.

Derek fought like dark poetry, if rhymes were written in blood and torn flesh. His movements rolled from slashing claws to whirling kicks seamlessly, features changing fluidly from human to wolf, muscles flexing beneath taut skin. He was a hunter's ending, a swift death in a black wrapped package. Watching him move, Stiles felt a curl of emotion deep within him; it was too warm to be fear. Stiles knew fear, it was cold, sharp, and lodged itself in his chest.

Pulling his mind back from its contemplation of Derek's muscles and his own nameless emotions, Stiles dodged a blow from the Alpha. "Stiles, pay attention. You need to anticipate your opponent's movements. What's going on with your footwork today? " Derek yelled as he paused his attack. "If your mind is not on the training, you could get seriously hurt. Focus!" Ears reddening, Stiles redoubled his efforts. Today Derek was going down.

Stiles, now mostly healed from his year on the road, fought like a whirlwind. His blades flashing, spinning in the sunlight, as he moved against Derek. Rolling under Derek's slash of claws, he came to his feet behind him, rotating Stiles brought his blade upward its tip skimming the flesh under Derek's chin. One drop of blood, a mere paper cut but it had Stiles' heart skipping a beat. It was the first time he had ever scored against the Alpha. I hope he's not pissed.

"Better," Derek praised and then moved, faster than Stiles could track, faster than any human could react. At least the leaves make for a more comfortable landing. "You okay?"

"So you were the one that taught Jackson that flippy thing move?" Stiles smiled up at Derek, causing the older man to look... annoyed? Constipated? "You have to teach me how to do that."

Derek grabbed Stiles' hand, pulling him to his feet but didn't let him go. On closer inspection Stiles could see that Derek's eyes were really the lightest of greens, speckled with blue. Stunning.

And why am I staring into the Alpha's eyes like a girl? Shit!

Feeling self conscience because he was basically standing there holding hands with the Alpha, Stiles slid out of Derek's grasp, murmuring a soft "thanks" as he felt the back of his neck heat up. Stiles shuffled his feet for a second, eyes darting to Derek's and away before heading over to Scott, his emotions a chaotic mass that he could not begin to unravel.  
Scott pushed off the tree as Stiles approached, his shoulder slamming into the human as he passed. Rubbing his bruised arm, Stiles trotted after his fuming friend, catching up to him as they neared the house.

"What was that all about? Why'd you leave?" Stiles looked back at the pack still sparring in the backyard. As long as the boys stayed in sight they wouldn't end up with a shadow. Stiles sat on the porch, glimpsing the scowl on Scott's face and patted the wood next to him. "What is your problem?"

"My problem? You're the one that can't take your eyes off the damn Alpha! You've practically rolled over and become his bitch." Scott hissed his venomous words into Stiles' ear so low that even with him pressed against him, Stiles could just barely make out what was said.

Wide eyed with shock, Stiles didn't have a chance to respond before Scott continued. "I see the way he brushes by you in the house, all the little strokes and touches. Are you enjoying it? Do you want him to pant after you like a dog in heat? Because that's what this is. You are just so ready to fall in with this pack of monsters. It makes me wonder if you've forgotten who you are. Who we are."

"Shut up." Not bothering with a whisper, Stiles let his voice echo across the yard. "I know you don't like this, but you don't get to take it out on me. I know you don't want to be a werewolf but you know what? It was either that or death. You made your choice to live in the forest. Remember? And I stood by you then. I've done everything I possibly could to keep you alive. Everything."

Stiles jumped off the porch, spinning to face his friend. "Don't you understand? This is it! This pack, this town, it's your chance to live because we weren't going to make it on the road." The rush of anger left his body in a rush, leaving Stiles emotional drained and a little too aware of their wolfy audience. "This can be home, Scott, but only if you let it."

Growling, Scott pushed himself off the porch and ran into the forest leaving Stiles to face the curious pack. Shrugging he called to the wolves, "He just needs some time."

"Everybody take a lap around the preserve," Derek commanded as he walked toward Stiles. His hand brushed the small of Stiles' back as he urged him into the house. Turning to face the younger man, his eyes searching the brown eyes, he asked,"This can be home? Does that mean you're staying? No more attempts to run?"

"You said it yourself, where would we go?" Stiles' emotional default was sarcasm and the words left his mouth before he thought about them. Turning he caught a strange gleam in the alpha's eyes before Derek's face went blank. There had been the start of something, something that Stiles thought should be important. As Derek walked back out the door, Stiles was left wondering what he had missed.


	9. Beginning or Ending?

Fall slipped in pushing out summer bringing with it a riot of colors and memories of his family. Mom had died in the fall, just as the last of the leaves had fallen from the trees; which, Stiles had felt it was appropriate at the time because the empty trees matched his empty heart.

Sensing his saddened mood, Scott sat next to Stiles on the porch. Together they watched Derek as he completed what was becoming his daily attack on the leaves in the front yard. "If precision raking was a sport, Derek would have the gold. I'm surprised the leaves have the audacity to even fall in his yard."

Scott smiled, while still moody and short tempered, he had begun to loosen up these last couple of weeks. He was still the odd wolf out in the pack but Stiles hoped that it would change with time. "He doesn't really seem like the yard work type."

The pile of leaves was growing to epic proportions, calling to Stiles' inner child like a siren to the hapless sailor. "Come on, Scott." Hopping down from the porch Stiles ran across the yard. He leapt skyward with enough of a twist that he could see the blue sky briefly before his soft landing covered him in crinkly leaves. Rolling over, he dug himself a little deeper into the pile before erupting out.

Bubbling with laughter Stiles turned to see Scott, still grumpy, on the porch. He was about to call out to him to join him in the leaves when he was grabbed from behind. There wasn't even the crunch of leaves to warn him as arms wrapped around him, one under his left shoulder curving over to hold the muscle against his neck, the other around his waist pressing just under his breast bone.

Warm, moist breath huffed, tickling Stiles' neck and causing his nerve endings to send Morse code down his backbone; less an SOS and more of an OMG. It was like being struck deaf and blind, the world narrowed to the feel of Derek's hand against his stomach, thumb rubbing slow, lazy circles against his shirt. He pressed backwards, the bare inch in their height ensuring his head nestled perfectly against the older man's shoulder; it was a visceral need he didn't completely understand, driving him to be closer, flush with Derek's chest until their hearts were pounding in tandem.

Finding breath and voice though hushed with emotion, Stiles asked, "Derek, what are you doing?"

"I'm trying to decide if I am going to kill you for messing up my leaves or..." His voice rumbled suggestively, soft lips whispering across a suddenly sensitive ear. Stiles was left wondering about the awesomeness of that word: or. His mind reeled refusing to acknowledge all the possibilities and meanings. Don't be an idiot. A wolf and a hunter? There was no way, and he didn't want to make a fool of himself.

Well, crap! I'm making a total idiot of myself by pressing up against him. What am I doing? Stiles stiffened, easing unwilling out of Derek's grip. Wolves were tactile by nature, he knew that from Scott but he was transferring his own emotions onto the alphas actions. All the little touches that Stiles had started to put so much meaning into were just wolf communication; it could never be the advances Stiles was just now realizing he craved. What if he knew? What if they found out? His heart picked up a notch at the thought. No one could know.

"Derek, don't hurt him!" Scott bounded off the porch, hearing the increase in Scott's heart. "We'll get them all raked and bagged. Just leave him alone, he's just a jerk sometimes."

Pulling Stiles away, Scott was met with resistance from the alpha. Stuck in the middle of werewolf tug o' war, Stiles spun around and was faced with crimson red eyes. Eye to eye with the angry wolf his worst fears came roaring down on him. I'm such an ass trying to cuddle the alpha and he's thinking of ways to kill me for messing up his leaves. Could I be a bigger idiot?

Scott headed toward the house dragging Stiles behind him. "Let's get some bags." Stiles followed, struggling feverishly not to look back at Derek not wanting to see his look of fury or disgust. But if he had, he would have seen a look of confusion and loss flicker across the alphas face before returning to his usually mask of calm indifference.

Grabbing the bags from the counter, Scott pushed Stiles back, forcing him against the table. "What are you doing? You need to keep the alpha away from you. "Scott scented him, nose brushing his skin from shoulder to chin. "You smell weird."

Angry and embarrassed, Stiles pushed Scott away from him. "I smell weird? What is with you? He wasn't hurting me. Really Scott, if he wanted to harm us we would be dead a couple of times over."

Scott looked at him with amazed disappointment, as if Stiles was a particularly stupid dog who failed at doing a simple trick. "You have no idea, do you?"

"No, I have no idea. I am just a human so I don't have super Lassie senses. I don't know if Timmy is in the well so bark it out boy! Just tell me. Why do I smell weird?"

Scott backed away, his mouth opening and closing, doing a great impression of a landed guppy. "You like him. I can smell it on you; the entire pack can smell it on you. You're like a bitch in heat around him." Scott's eyes turned amber and he moved once again into Stiles personal space. "Tell me the truth: did he demand you as his personal chew toy as his price for keeping us safe?"

Rage is an awesome thing, scary as hell but sometimes it's just what you need. Here it was, his emotional Achilles heel being thrown out for all to see, he was a laughing stock, a fool. Through the tunnel of raw red fury, Stiles hooked the feet from under Scott, riding him down to the tile with a flurry of blows to his head and face. There was the wet pop of a nose breaking and the eerie give of a cheek bone under his fists before he was pulled off and dunked under the large kitchen sink by Erica.

Scott was still laying on the floor, broken nose and black eye already starting to heal, a look of pure disbelief on his face. Sputtering and twisting, Stiles snarled wordlessly at his downed friend for once completely at loss for words, his emotions dominating all his senses.

"Let me go!" Erica's hold loosened but didn't release him. She held him to her chest and rocked gently, her warm rumbles vibrating Stiles' body with its force. Boyd entered from the opposite door and helped Scott to his feet, a quick tilt of the boy's chin to assess the damage.

"I'm fine!" Amber eyes stared with fury across the kitchen table at Stiles. "I guess that was a little too close to home," Scott sneered.

Boyd cuffed him on the back of his head. "I don't know what you too are fighting about but you need to stop taking you anger out on Stiles." Snarling, Scott slammed his way out of the kitchen and plowed into Derek.

Taking in the sight of a retreating Scott, a blood splattered kitchen and a raging ex-hunter barely contained by his beta, Derek growled, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Oh shit, he knows! They all know. Scott was right; he was acting like a bitch in heat when ever Derek was around. He needed to get himself under control.

Hearing the raging of Stiles' heart, Derek lunged forward knocking Erica aside and clutching Stiles to his chest. "Stiles, what is going on with you?"

Even Derek knew there was something wrong with him. Stiles thrashed in the alphas arms. "Let me go", he panted, heart beat racing even more. He needed to get out, needed to clear his head, needed air that was not filled with the scent of Derek Hale.

Reluctantly Derek eased his hold on the struggling hunter and Stiles stormed out of the kitchen, grabbing his keys as he tore through the front door. His jeep roared to life, tossing leaves and gravel into the air as Stiles gunned the gas and spun off down the drive.

Derek's stunned look was mirrored by the two betas. "What were they fighting about? What set Stiles off?" both Erica and Boyd shrugged helplessly. "Damn, I'll go after Stiles. You to keep track of Scott." Within seconds he was in his Camero speeding after Stiles down the long wooded road into town.

After driving the fifteen minutes it took to get to town Stiles had calmed down enough to do more than just react to the pain. Not having any destination in mind, Stiles found himself in the parking lot of the run down strip center where he and Scott had spent their first night. The fight replayed itself in Stiles' mind.

It's not as if he expected Scott's undying devotion til the end of time but after all he had done, all he had given up, at least his best friend shouldn't basically call him a wolf whore. He's such as asshole. Sometimes I wonder why I'm even his friend.

Stiles briefly contemplated just driving away, leaving pack and asshole behind but where would he go? Leaving Scott would not change his chances of surviving, he was still a hunter and therefore on the short list of things other packs would want to kill. Plus, he didn't really want to leave, in fact he wanted nothing more than to stay and become pack.  
Maybe that was what was at the center of this whole fight. Scott still hated being a wolf and even as a human Stiles seemed to accept and fit into the pack better than he did as an actual werewolf. It's not my fault he's a lousy wolf.

But was it so bad that he liked the pack? Liked Derek? Was he somehow betraying Scott by giving his loyalties so quickly to the wolf pack? Maybe Scott was right and he was acting like a bitch in heat around Derek. After all they were still being treated differently from the rest of the wolves.

They still had wolf shadows where ever they went, not allowed into town by themselves or even around the property without someone following behind. They were watched at all times. Maybe Stiles was viewing the whole situation through his emotions. What if Scott didn't act like pack because they weren't pack.

Stiles was thumping his forehead against the steering wheel when Derek tapped lightly on the window of the jeep. Stiles tilted his head briefly to glance at the wolf and then continued with his slow beating of his head. Maybe I can beat some sense into myself before I ruin everything.

Derek walked around and let himself into the passenger side. After watching Stiles lightly beat his head a couple of more times, he placed his hand over the wheel to cushion the blow. "Why?"

"Why did I follow you? You and Scott are not supposed to leave the preserve without an escort." Derek left his hand on the wheel beneath Stiles' head, leaning into Stiles' personal space, his very presence warming the air near Stiles, causing his heart to skip a beat. All he wanted to do was lean into Derek, let the alpha take away all his hurt and worry. With an internal growl to his emotional side he pushed down those feelings.

"So we're you prisoners? We're not your pack." Leaning back Stiles took himself away from temptation, away from the spicy scent of Derek, the warm comfort of his skin. He wasn't pack. He wasn't wolf. He just wished he knew WHAT he was to Derek: a stray that he took pity upon, a strange project that needed a human guinea pig, Derek growled as Stiles pulled away. "Yes you're pack but I need to be able to protect you, to keep you safe." He reached out to touch Stiles but stopped as the young boy flinched.

"Safe from what? The only danger that I would have as a hunter is a wolf pack, but you just said I am part of your pack. So what are you protecting me from?" Stiles stared down the Alpha not caring if his actions were could be taken as a challenge. "I understand why you wanted Scott, an omega running loose runs the risk of killing innocent humans but why do you need me? I should just go! There's really no place for me in your pack."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Stiles regretted them. They formed ice crystals around his heart, squeezing his chest. Terrified that the alpha would agree with his hastily spoken words he jumped out of the jeep, slammed the door and started to walk away.

Derek was out of the car and had Stiles pinned to the side of an empty store before he walked ten feet. The walls made a screeching noise as Derek's claws scraped down the side, creating deep gouges in the paneling. Eyes blazing, teeth bared and pressed to Stiles' throat he growled, body tense with the need to keep his emotions in check.

"If you run, I will hunt you down and drag your ass back to the preserve. You are mine!" Derek paused with a quick shake of his head. "You're my pack. My responsibility. I have to protect you!"

"Protect me from what?"

"Yourself mostly. Just a few months ago you were either going to die by Scott's wolf or starve to death!"

"That doesn't explain why we've become your pet project. Why protect us? What do you want from us? Some sort of Hunter secret? Because I've got nothing, we know nothing."  
Derek sighed, a defeated sound that startled Stiles. "I don't know why. I just need to protect you, to keep you safe." Pinching his nose in frustration, Derek's feature slid back to normal. "I'll pull the chaperones if that will make you feel better but try not to do anything stupid."

Stiles returned to his jeep and sat there until the sun started to set, all the stupid things he'd done and wanted to do rolling around in his head giving him a headache. Well, maybe that was from all the head bashing against the steering wheel. Heart heavy Stiles started up and jeep and turned back down the road to the Hale House because for Stiles, it had become home.


	10. The End of the Year

Stiles sat at the edge of the small pond, the cool moisture from the rock slowly soaking through his pants, leeching the heat from his body. Skipping rocks was obviously not in his skill set as another stone made an unsatisfying plop instead of dancing across the surface.

Scooping up another rock, Stiles flipped it in his palm ready his throw when another went splashing along the surface, hopping until it reach the other side. Flicking his wrist, Stiles sent his splashing into the water, barely past his feet.

"You're using the wrong shape. The rock needs to be flat and smooth. "Derek crouched down next to Stiles, handing him a smooth stone. "You wrap your finger around the edge and twist your wrist as you release." The warmth of the alpha's body soaked into Stiles' as he guided his hand through the motion. Once released the rock skipped twice before sinking below the surface. "See? Now you just need practice."

Easing down next to Stiles, Derek leaned briefly against his side. "You and Scott are still not talking? It's been over a week."Stiles lifted a shoulder in response.  
"And I see you're still not talking to me."

"I'm not not talking to you. I just don't have anything to say." Stiles huffed, hearing how childish he sounded.

Derek snorted, "That's a lie. You know I can tell when you're lying. Why do you even try?"

"Maybe I'm just lying to myself. Maybe I don't know..." Stiles broke off, frustrated with himself. He was still angry and hurt by the things that were said and unable to resolve them, but throwing rocks at the helpless pond was an unsatisfactory outlet for his emotions.

"Scott seems to be doing better." Derek searched the rocks at their feet, finding a suitable one and handing it over to Stiles. "He's more focused, is learning better control, and is actually taking an interest in the pack."

"That's great. I guess I was holding him back all this time. All he needed was to drop the human and all his problems would be solved." Stiles pitched the skipping stone almost to the far end of the pond.

"You have a good throwing arm but lousy skipping technique. And you didn't hold him back. A pack is better and stronger with humans. You give us balance and keep us whole. Don't cheapen your effect on Scott because he would have gone rogue if not for you."

"If humans are so important, why am I the only one in your pack?" Stiles watched as Derek's face closed off, hiding his emotions behind a mask. Knowing he shouldn't, Stiles pushed on for an answer. "If I'm Pack, you shouldn't keep things from me. Why are there no other humans?"

A snarl erupted from Derek's rapidly expanding jaw line, fangs and claws popping almost instantaneously. Stiles scrambled away while swallowing hard. He had never seen such a complete transformation in such a short amount of time. Derek loomed over Stiles, Alpha form complete, his chest heaving as he fought for control.

"They were all killed with the rest of my family. We were in the first wave of casualties in your war. Have you noticed the size of my pack? How they are all turned wolves, not born? It's because, except for me, the Hale pack was exterminated, down to the last human, the last helpless cub because of Hunter blood lust."

Clawed hands pulled Stiles to his feet, their razor tips piercing both jacket and shirt but not skin. "So why didn't you take revenge?" For the first time since they met, Stiles was truly afraid of Derek, though he refused to show it by cowering away.

"I did! I was among the first wave of attacks on the compounds. We tore through your ranks leaving nothing but death in our path. But it didn't bring my family back, it didn't ease my loss." Derek seemed to bite off each word as it passed through a mouth that was now more of a muzzle.

"But that makes no sense. Why would you take us in? How can you not hate us?"

"Believe me, I ask myself that question all the time. Sometimes I just want to hunt you down to rend and tear the flesh from your bones, but when I'm in your presence or I smell your scent..." Derek trailed off in favor of running his nose from the tip of Stiles' shoulder across his collarbone and up to his neck. "All I want to do is...take." The last part of his words was spoken into the sensitive flesh beneath Stiles' ear, causing the younger male to shiver.

He didn't say take did he? Take what? "What? You want to do … what?"

Derek stepped back and released Stiles from his possessive hold before sneezing in a dog-like manner. "All I want to do is protect you." He locked eyes with Stiles for another moment, almost as if willing him to understand the inexpressible, then loped away, leaving behind a very confused man.

"Now who's lying?" Stiles whispered to the retreating wolf.

Later that day Stiles was sprinting through the barren, winter stripped trees. He adjusted his path as he heard the sounds of howls from the east, trying to widen his lead. The Pack thought this was the best game ever but Stiles was still on the fence about it; bloody fun or sadistic torture he just couldn't decide. Called Wolves and Stags by the Hale pack, this had to be the most brutal game of tag ever invented. Divided equally, one half of the pack would hunt the other, no holds barred, fangs and claws not only allowed but encouraged. The wolf side was able to work as a team whereas on the stag side each player was on their own.

Stiles was actually a good stag, able to quickly leave false trails and hide his scent from the trailing wolves but the winter forest gave him little cover, leaving him exposed to werewolf sight much of the time. The cold December air burned through his lungs, making his nose tender and red as he sprinted through the forest. If he could make it to the rock outcropping at the edge of the property he could hide his trail and double back.

Just as the rocks appeared Stiles was tackled to the ground by Isaac. Smiling, Isaac rolled the two boys down the gentle slope before stopping, pinning Stiles to the ground. "Chomp chomp." He snapped his teeth above Stiles' head. "You're a dead deer."

"Damn, I thought I was ahead of all of you. How'd you catch my scent?"

"Didn't" Isaac rolled smoothly to his feet, pulling Stiles up with him. "I'm starting to understand how you think, I can anticipate your moves."

"Well that sucks! If that's true, I'm never going to be able to avoid you. I'm going to spend all my time as venison." Stiles dusted himself off, angry but not wanting to take it out on Isaac. It wasn't the young wolf's fault that his strategies and tactics were so obvious.

Isaac bounded after him as he started back to the house. "It's a good thing. Everyone in the pack starts to read each other, we know how they move and how they think. It's what makes us pack, makes us one."

Stiles stopped so fast that Isaac bumped into him from behind. "But I'm not a werewolf."

"Doesn't matter. You're pack." Catching Stiles by the shoulder, Isaac whirled him around in a tight, playful circle. "Come on! I'll race you to the house. You can have a head start and everything."

The blond wolf's happiness was infectious. "Whatever lead you were planning on giving me, you need to double it. Humans are slow." Stiles laughed as he took off running, knowing that Isaac would catch him but it didn't matter. He was pack.

Returning to the Hale House, far behind a smug Isaac, Stiles found Scott waiting for him on the porch, legs kicking an uneven beat on the siding. Stiles ignored his impulse to go around back, avoiding his friend and walked up the stairs past him.

"Can we talk?" Scott smiled and scooted over to make room for Stiles. "Please?"

His emotions rolled within his chest; anger, hope, sadness, fear, and the gnawing need to have his friend back by his side. Forgiveness won out. This was Scott, his friend, and he could never stay mad at him for long. Stiles flopped down next to Scott and flung an arm around his shoulder, squeezing. "No more fighting, okay?"

Scott let out a long, relived sigh. "Okay. I'm sorry though. I didn't mean what I said." Stiles knew he was letting him off easy but just nodded his head and squeezed his shoulder again.

"I know. Bygones and all that." Stiles matched his own kicks to Scott's beat enjoying the silence and the presence of his friend. Noticing the smile that kept playing along Scott's lips, he nudged his shoulder. "So what have you been up to? You've been out quite a bit this last week."

Scott's grin blossomed into a full smile, lighting his features. "I met a girl." Oh, somebody's in love. Stiles spent the next hour smiling, somewhat stiffly at times, as Scott expounded on the virtues of the beautiful, wonderful, Allison Argent. Maybe not speaking wasn't so bad.

The weeks before Christmas passed quickly. Scott spent much of his extra time with the raven haired center of his universe. Derek was right, Scott was more focused, a better wolf. Stiles was happy for him, really he truly was but he had that little nagging voice inside him that wished Scott had needed him more. I'm such a child, pouting because my friend is playing with someone else.

Isaac plopped down on the couch next to Stiles interrupting his moody thoughts and immediately changed the channel. Without missing a beat, Stiles snatched the remote back, playfully slapping the young wolf on the head. "I'm watching that."

"Myth Busters? How big of a geek are you?"

"Of epic proportions. And they blow stuff up all the time, that's not geek-y" Stiles watched Isaac chuckle and make himself comfortable on the couch, which meant sprawled across Stiles lap much like a cat in the sun.

Stiles had decided that his pack title must be mascot slash cuddly buddy. For murderous, inhuman beasts werewolves were very sweet, a little clingy but sweet.

"Where's Scott?" Isaac pressed his head against Stiles legs until he carded his fingers through the curly hair. He's a little big for a lap dog.

"Wolfy - incognito. He's having dinner with Allison's family tonight. Again. I guess he is making a good impression with the family because this is the third family dinner this week."  
"She's a good anchor for him." Stiles agreed with Isaac. She might be stealing his best friend from under his nose but Stiles had to hand it to Allison, she really was bringing out the best in Scott. "Scott's been working hard. We worked the perimeter together last night, he is settling in to the pack."

Stiles smiled. It was good that Scott was finally becoming more at ease with the rest of the pack. Scott needed to be around wolves and Stiles found himself thinking of the Hale Pack as family. Maybe even more than family.

Their couch potato session was interrupted as Boyd flung open the front door dragging an enormous tree behind him. Derek followed close behind with a hand saw and other tools.

Stiles practically vibrated with excitement. "You bought a Christmas tree? A real tree?" As he inhaled the piney scent a breathtaking smile lit up his face, bring color to his cheeks and a dancing twinkle to his eyes. "I've never had a real tree. Even before the compound," Stiles couldn't bring himself to say before his parents died, it would bring down his mood. "I never had a real tree. Just those plastic toilet brush ones."

Derek smiled as the young man practically danced around him, seeing fleeting images of the boy he must have been; funny, carefree, and enthusiastic. "A toilet brush tree?"

"Yeah, you know the guy who invented the fake tree used the same structure as a toilet brush to make the tree bristles. I always thought that was a little gross. I never ate the candy canes off the tree after I found that out."

"My family always had a real tree. It's the smell. Once the tree is in the house, then you know it's Christmas because you can smell it everywhere." Derek trimmed the bottom of the tree and adjusted the trunk holder securely while Boyd held it in place. The top brushed the ceiling of the room, almost too big for the space.

Stiles couldn't help but run his fingers across the pines, Derek was right, even to his human senses the house smelled like Christmas. "Can I help decorate it?"

The hunters in the compound where Stiles had been raised after his parents' death had not wasted time on frivolous activities like Christmas. That time, Owen always said, was better spent on important matter such as training, hunting, and killing werewolves. Stiles had forgotten how much he missed Christmas until he was faced with the beautiful tree.  
The longing in Stiles eyes was unmistakable. The alpha smiled down at the hunter who was still caressing the tree. "I will put you in charge of tree decorations. Do whatever you like." Derek allowed his fingers to trail across Stiles' back as he walked by him and out of the living room.

Over the next three days Stiles wiped out the stock of reindeer ornaments in all the local stores. Seeing an herbivores themed tree in a werewolf den was hilarious. The pack retaliated by making paper cutouts of wolves and placed them so that they could chase the deer across the tree. Stiles couldn't help but love it.

Preparations for Christmas became a whirlwind of activity for Stiles. The only dim bulb in his colored string of lights happiness was Scott. That wolf had it bad. He was hardly ever around, running to Allison's at her every beck and call. When he was at the Hale house, he was so intent on werewolfy things that he barely had time for Stiles. And the few minutes that Stiles could drag out of Scott were filled with long monologues about the glory that was Allison.

He hadn't even had a chance to meet the girl, but Stiles felt positive that it would be hate at first sight. Stupid best friend stealing girl.

Stiles was not the only one that was beginning to have a problem with the amount of time Scott was spending with Allison. The alpha was becoming frustrated with Scott's dedication to a non-pack member.

Stiles' eyes moved back and forth, tennis match style, as he listened to Scott and his alpha argue.

"You can spend Christmas morning and day with Allison. Christmas eve is for pack." Stiles could tell that Derek had on his 'I'm being reasonable' face but really wanted to yell at the stubborn, lovesick idiot. "That's the way it's always been with the Hale pack."

"What does it matter? You won't even miss me. I already told her I would come to Christmas dinner."

"Then you need to call her and explain that you made a mistake. You WILL be attending our Christmas Eve party because you are pack and you will be missed." Derek watched Scott huff out of the kitchen, snagging Stiles' keys as he headed out the door. With the slam echoing through the house, he raised an eyebrow at Stiles.

"Yep, he's whipped."

Stiles wished he had a calendar that he could use bright red X's to count down the days. He couldn't remember that last time he was so excited, most likely his last Christmas with his parents. Even Scott in full avoidance and pout mode could not dampen Stiles exuberance. Soon the pack had caught Stiles' Christmas fever. Derek just smiled at the growing number of decorations, cookies, and stockings.

The crowning touch in Derek's mind was the two framed pictures of Erica and Stiles on the mantle. He wondered whose idea it was to visit Santa but the grinning pictures of the two sitting on St. Nick's lap completed the room.

By Christmas Eve the tree had piles of presents under its branches and the stockings were stuffed to capacity and were falling off the hooks. Scott grumbled forlornly in the corner, missing Allison but the rest of the pack just ignored their pack mate's Scrooge impression.

Wearing elf hats adorned with bells, Stiles and Erica passed out the pile of presents. The whole pack merrily ripped into the packaging creating a rainbow colored snow storm with the wrapping and bows. Even Scott gave a small smile to Stiles when presented with his present, a gift card for a nice restaurant and the local movie theater. "Allison loves this place." Duh, not like you talk about anything besides Allison.

Afterward the pack watched a Christmas movie marathon, drinking eggnog spiked by Jackson. The whole pack, except for grumpy Scott, curled up on the large couch, laughing and singing along to the old stop animation cartoons.

As the evening progressed, Erica hung mistletoe in the hallway and playfully trapped the boys under it, demanding kisses. Isaac gave her a brotherly peck on the cheek and Stiles gleefully dipped her, kissing her loudly and dramatically. Boyd's kiss was a little more than what a sibling would bestow leaving Erica blushing and speechless.

The party slowly wound down and Stiles made a last trip to the kitchen for eggnog, feeling happy and buzzed. "Anyone what some? Last call." Coming back he squeezed past Derek who stopped him with a hand on his hip.

"Stiles, wait." He looked glanced upward at the hanging plant. "I believe tradition dictates a kiss." Clasping Stiles with both hands, he slowly pulled him forward giving him ample chance to pull away. Leaning down he brushed his lips across Stiles' gently then deepening it when Stiles let out a muffled gasp, his tongue slipping in tasting of eggnog, cinnamon and a spiciness that was all his own.

Stiles let his head drop back cradled in Derek's warm palm, allowing the alpha better access, clinging to his shoulders, pressing harder against the warm lean body. Derek slowly broke the kiss, forehead pressed to Stiles as he calmed his beating heart.

"I shouldn't have" Derek whispered, his thumb stroking Stiles' cheek. Turning he walked away and disappeared up the stairs to his room. Stiles was left frozen, fingers tracing his lips, emotions tumbling and confused.


	11. The End of Good Days

"Hey, Stiles, can you give me a lift into town?" Scott obviously really wanted to go since he'd pulled out the big guns: his puppy dog eyes, a shy little half smile, and the endearing tilt of his head. This combination always convinced Stiles to go along with whatever madcap scheme or plan Scott devised. In this case, however, a trip into town was exactly what Stiles needed since he wanted to get away from the house for a little while, so he quickly agreed.

Things had been awkward between him and Derek since the Christmas kiss, though everything seemed the same on the surface. They still ate breakfast side by side, Derek managing to slyly slip his bacon to Stiles, and there was still their usual casual touches and smiles, but he could feel the awkwardness in the lingering silences. The memory of the incredibly hot mistletoe kiss haunted them as surely as a ghost.

The pack wasn't helping either. They all walked around with smug grins on their faces, wiping them instantly clean whenever Derek looked their way. Stiles knew that somewhere on the Hale property there was a betting pool. Hell, Stiles was ready to put his own money down because come New Year's Eve he was planning on standing right next to Derek at the stroke of midnight.

"You're quiet." Scott commented, his leg bouncing with energy. "What are you thinking so hard about?"

"Just counting all the kissing holidays. There's Christmas and New Years Eve. I guess Valentine's Day counts but that's about it."

"Okay, that's totally random." Not when I'm planning to kiss Derek, Stiles thought.

Scott directed Stiles through town toward the industrial center. "What do you need out here?" The area was filled with warehouses, most of which looked deserted and run down. Not the best neighborhood.

"We're almost there. It's just around that corner." Scott continued to fidget, a nervous habit he had when he was in trouble. Or lying.

"Scott? What's going on?"

"Nothing! It's right over there." Scott hopped out of the jeep as soon as it stopped, running around to practically pull Stiles from the driver's side door. "Let's go."

Stiles had only taken a few steps when four men exited the building, walking quickly their way. Unease pooled in the pit of Stiles' stomach and he tried to pry his arm out of Scott's grasp, wanting nothing more than to leave, but his friend merely tightened his unbreakable grip and it was one of the few times Stiles' cursed Scott's werewolf strength. Once the strangers reached them, Scott smiled happily and introduced them, "Trevor, Mike, this is Stiles."

The shorter man grabbed a hold of Stiles' arm and pushed up his sleeve, reveling his Hunter's brand. A huge smile crossed the man's face showing yellowed, crooked teeth. "Welcome brother."

"Hunters? Scott you brought us to hunters? What the hell is wrong with you?" Stiles desperately tried to pull away again, but was caught between Scott and the hunters. Changing tactics, he kicked sideways at the taller man, knocking him back a couple of feet.

"I don't need this shit" The yellowed tooth hunter pulled a black pistil looking weapon out of the back of his jeans and aimed it at Stiles. Seconds later, Stiles was on the ground, his body arching and twitching in agony from the volts of the Taser.

With his vision fading in and out, the edges of the world blurring and undefined, Stiles could do little as the hunters lifted him and brought him into the building, tossing him onto a grimy mattress inside a small room that was once an office and locked inside.

Stiles let the sounds of voices wash over him like angry waves on a beach a nagging sense of urgency tugged at the recesses of his brain but he could not seem to latch onto it long enough to pull himself out of the haze.

His eyes blinked slowly, the shadows from the small window lengthening across the back wall. Between one long blink and another, a worried Scott appeared at the foot of the mattress.

"How are you feeling?"

"Hunters, Scott they're hunters. You're gonna get yourself killed." Stiles pushed himself weakly onto his elbows, then slowly to a sitting position, body screaming with every move. "Why would you do this?"

"We are hunters Stiles. How can you just leave behind everything you were raised to be?"

Stiles looked at Scott as if he had never seen him before. A complete stranger sat before him on the dirty mattress. "I left it all behind for you. Scott, these hunters will kill you."

"You're wrong. Allison knows I'm not a true wolf. Even tainted, I can still be a hunter. Chris says that my being turned is the best way to infiltrate the packs and help the hunters regain the upper hand with these monsters."

"Oh God! Scott, you're going to attack the Hale pack. They took us in. Damn it Scott, they saved us, saved you. How can you betray them?"

Scott pulled him into a quick hug ignoring the way Stiles stiffened in his embrace. "It's okay. I explained it to them. I don't know how Derek brainwashed you so quickly but once they are dead you will feel better."

Stiles pushed Scott backwards; surging to his feet with fists clinched and face red with betrayal. "I'm not brainwashed you moron! Do you have any idea, any fucking idea how close we were to not making it? How close you were to losing it and going rogue? Derek saved us! And now, now you are turning your back on him and leading a group of hunters right to his door. Do you hate yourself so much that you have to destroy everything that is good to punish us? How can you say they are monsters after becoming a werewolf yourself? You're not a monster and neither are they."

Amber eyes flashed as a growling Scott pinned Stiles to the wall, "I'm a monster Stiles. We all are. But at least I can make this right. You would know that if you weren't so caught up in your emotions."

"What emotions? Gratitude? Thankfulness? Relief that I'm not half starved or fear that my best friend is going to eat me one full moon? What emotion am I so caught up in that I am missing how your betrayal is such a good thing?"

"Love. You love him, Stiles. If you weren't so blinded by that you would see that I'm right about this."

Stiles sank to the ground, released from Scott's grip. "You of all people are saying that to me. When did you start feeling this way? You've changed since you met Allison, you were so ready to fit in but it was all just a ruse. Scott, how could you do this? The Pack has been nothing but kind to us and you are betraying them."

Shaking his head sadly, Scott turned from Stiles and walked out of the room. "You'll see. Once this is over, you will see that I'm right. Chris has already offered you a place in his troop after tonight goes down. Everything will be just like before. You just need to trust me." Scott locked the door, leaving Stiles behind.

Stiles listened at the door while Scott and the hunters made the final adjustments to their attack plans. Now all of Scott's sudden interest in training and running the perimeters made sense. How could I have missed it? He's been planning this for weeks.

Part of him wanted to scream as Scott left with the hunters, beg his friend to reconsider, to stop this murderous course of action but he held himself in check. With a quick glance around the small room, Stiles realized that Scott had underestimated him. Thank God!

Lock picking was one of those skills that he had been both proud and ashamed of mastering. He went to work pulling the fraying thread from the mattress and exposing the springs beneath. As soon as the hunters left he could start working on the lock. All he had to do was free himself, stop a massacre, and save his idiot best friend.

It took longer than Stiles expected to work free the spring. Hurry, hurry, hurry chanted the little voice inside his head, as the sky darkened and his hand became slick with sweat as he desperately worked at picking the lock.

With a final click the knob turned and Stiles was free to sprit toward his jeep, keys fumbling from his pocket.

Finding the hunters and the pack was easier that Stiles had thought as he drove franticly toward the preserve. All he had to do was follow the howls and as he came closer, the screams. As it was, he was almost too late.

Trevor, the yellowed tooth bastard, was impaled upon the lowest branch of a tree, his body still twitching slightly as he died, blood dripping down to the leaves below. What was left of Mike, Stiles thought it was Mike because the bloody mass was wearing the same clothes, was spread in large pieces across the rocky outcrop.

Allison was kneeling by her pale father, tears streaking her face as she pointed her last arrow at a snarling Jackson and Isaac. Boyd and Erica had made short work of the remaining two nameless hunters and Scott, he was hanging limply from Derek's claws, blood pooling from his mouth and nose.

"No!" it was a shout of pure anguish, leaving Stiles' throat raw from its force. "Derek, oh God, Derek, don't. Please let him go. Please Derek, please!" Stumbling across the bloody ground, Stiles caught Derek by the elbow, tugging his arm to release his friend.

Red eyes, full of rage and hate locked onto Stiles. With a tossing motion, Derek released Scott, dropping him at his feet and reached out to encircle Stiles' neck with his claw tipped hands. "Traitor."

"I'm not. Derek, I'm not." He didn't struggle against Derek's grip, standing resolutely before his alpha. His heart felt like ground glass within his chest as his watched Derek's eyes fill with disgust.

"Take your brother," the word was spat like venom, "and leave. You have twenty four hours. After that we will kill every hunter in Beacon Hills." The push had Stiles sprawling out on the forest floor, watching, soul screaming, as his pack vanished into the forest.

Scott groaned, legs scraping weakly against the dirt and leaves. "Allison? Where are you?"

Dragging himself to his feet, Stiles helped Scott hobble over to Allison. The huntress was curled protectively around her father, cradling his head in her lap. "He won't wake up." 

Her voice was thready, one's first battle could be a shock to the system and the dark haired girl was not handling it well.

"His heart beat is strong. Let's get him back to your house, he will be fine." Even bloody and torn, Scott managed to lift the unconscious hunter and carry him to the dark colored SUV as Allison trailed behind.

Scott and Chris took the back seat, the wolf watching over his love's father who slowly came to as they drove back to town. "Twenty - four hours. That's how long Derek is giving you to leave town before he comes to finish you off." Stiles met the older man's eyes in the rearview mirror. "If I were you, I wouldn't waste any time. Pack and get out."

Allison pulled the vehicle into the large garage and helped her Dad out. Scott hovered, trying to stay as close to her as possible, either protecting or apologizing for the failed hunt, Stiles didn't care which. He watched her eyes, flickering back and forth between Scott and her father, the way she shifted her weight so that she leaned away from Scott, away from the werewolf who had sacrificed everything for her.

Packing up the household of the Argents took less than fifteen minutes. Two duffle bags apiece, a huge amount of cash from a hidden safe, and most time consuming, the emptying of the weapons case. Scott loaded the last of the bags into the car. "Stiles, let's go."

Stiles didn't move, still rooted in the same spot by the back of the garage that he had been in since they pulled in. "I'm not going Scott. This is my home."

"He'll kill you. He won't care about anything you try to tell him. He will just kill you in cold blood."

Stiles shrugged in reply. Numb was good.

Allison slid into the front followed by her father. Scott reach for the backseat door handle but was cut off by the sharp click of a gun being cocked. "Not you." Chris' cold blue eyes stared at Scott from behind the steering wheel.

How could he have not seen this coming? Scott was an idiot.

"Allison," pleaded Scott. "Talk to him." Stiles watched as the dark haired beauty ripped his friend's heart out with four short words:"I never loved you."

With a squeal of tires that left rubber skid marks on the concrete floor, the Argents pulled out leaving the boys broken hearted and alone.

Stiles watched Scott crumble to the garage floor his shoulders slumping in defeat. "She never loved me."

Stiles wanted to hate him, to rub his pain in like salt to a wound but this was Scott, friend, brother, family, so he wrapped him in a hug instead.

"I'm sorry Stiles. I'm so, so sorry." And the beta, no he was a beta no longer; just a lowly omega now, clung to Stiles. "What will we do now?"

Stiles placed his hand on the crown of Scott's head, as if to forgive him of his sins. "Survive. We will survive."


	12. Breaking Point

Scott spent the day following his ill-conceived betrayal of the pack and the Argents' departure waiting for Wolfageddon, which never came. "Maybe they think we've gone as well," he said over his shoulder as he peeked through the curtains for the fifth time that evening.

Stiles responded with a disbelieving huff, clearly doubting the pack was unaware of their presence in town. A fact that became abundantly clear when the jeep appeared in the driveway with all their belongings stuffed into garbage bags in the back. The pack's meaning was clear: they were throwing out the trash.

"We should go." Scott stood next to the couch that Stiles had slept on since that awful night. "He's giving us a chance. For whatever reason, he is letting us leave. I don't think he will give us another."

Stiles remained curled against the cushions with a light blanket pulled almost over his head. "I'm not running any more Scott. Never again. I've been on the road for too long. This is my home now and I'm not leaving."

"Stiles, they will kill us. Kill you." Scott tugged on his friend's arm but Stiles only pulled away and shrugged, pulling the blanket back over his face. "Do you even care?"

"No, not anymore. Sorry, I just can't. I can't run anymore. I'm tired. I'm done."

Scott stumbled back a step in shock. Stiles never gave up, never quit. "Stiles, staying here is suicide.

"Then leave, Scott. I'm not asking you to stay. I'm not asking you for anything. Take the jeep, take anything you want. Go make your own decisions now. I'm done trying to look out for you."

Scott was suddenly faced with the evidence of his betrayal. It wasn't just the wolves he had turned his back on, but his friend as well. After all, it was Stiles' unending support and belief that kept him alive and sane for the past year, and Scott had repaid him with a knife in the back.

He was a bloody turn coat for a girl he barely knew. A girl, who, he knew now, had used his own insecurities against him, twisting his thoughts and feelings until he believed in her more than he trusted his best friend. A friend who had given up everything for him.

The sheer magnitude of his actions hit Scott and he dropped to his knees next to the couch, tucking his head into Stiles' blanket covered chest. "I guess it's my turn." A weary eye peeked over the blanket edge. "Maybe it's my turn to look after you. If you are staying here than so am I."

Two days passed without Stiles speaking to Scott once; it had to be a record. Scott felt invisible, a phantom haunting the friendship they once had. Bringing the pizza he had made into the living room and sat next to Stiles, close enough that their knees and shoulders brushed. He could feel his friend tense, getting ready to pull away again.

"I screw up. I screwed up everything. Your life, my life, everything. I know it doesn't change anything, but I wanted you to know how sorry I am." Head down, shoulders hunching in on themselves, Scott waited for Stiles' reply.

"What do you want from me? Absolution? Forgiveness? A fucking doggy bone and a pat on the back? I left everything behind for you, to keep you safe and sane and alive. It's not just the pack you betrayed, hell it's not even just me. You betrayed yourself. Hunters? Scott, did you even think for one second?"

Stiles rose to his feet and paced angrily around the room, a snarl that would make any wolf proud marring his face. "If our family, the people who loved and raised us, would kill you without a second thought, why would you think that complete strangers would offer you shelter?"

"I thought she loved me." It was an anguished whisper, the last broken piece of his shattered heart. Stiles stilled, watching the tears run down his friend's face.

"You're lucky I love you, otherwise I would shoot you myself for the shit you put me through." Scott's head shot up, eyes filling with the hope of forgiveness. "Don't give me those puppy eyes. You are a long way from finding your way back to my good graces."

Picking up one slice of pizza Stiles flopped into a chair across from Scott, purposely putting as much space as possible between them.

"I hated myself. I felt I was a coward for running away from our family and my duty. Stiles, I never looked beyond my own pain until now. I wish I had listened to you. I wish I had never met Allison. I wish I could take this all back."

Looking up at his friend, taking in the tear streaked remorseful face Stiles replied, "It's too late. We've lost everything, family and pack. We have nothing left."

Pushing out of his seat, Scott grabbed his friend and pulled him to his feet, hugging him tightly as if he could squeeze the vibrancy back into him. "We still have each other."  
Stiles hugged him back weakly. "I wish that was enough but it's not."

Just enough time passed that Scott was beginning to believe that the pack would just pretend they were no longer in town. He stopped looking constantly over his shoulder and slinking around town. But his luck held - his bad luck.

(************************************************************)

If it had been the Camero or Boyd's black truck he would have run before the vehicle even turned the corner, but the van was new and he didn't smell the pack until it was too late.

"You should have left when Derek gave you the chance, Omega." Jackson snarled into his face as Erica and Isaac dragged him into the back of the van and pinned him to the hard metal floor. Scott struggle but was overpowered by more than the sheer numbers. He had lost that extra reserve of strength that being a part of a pack had given him.

He could smell the green of the forest long before the van pulled onto the gravel road. "So Derek's decided to finish me off now? Why'd he wait so long?" Erica's eyes darted briefly to Isaac's as she bit her lip.

"Shut up, Omega." Erica slammed him against the van's floorboard, her nails breaking the fabric and skin at his shoulders. The pack had the door open, tossing Scott to the forest floor before the van finished sliding to a halt.

Seconds after hitting the ground Scott was in beta form and running, putting as much space between himself and his ex-pack mates as possible. A memory of Stiles running from Boyd bringing a slightly hysterical smile to his lips. Muted howls closed in from his flank. He knew that he could not outrun all of them but he was not going to give up without a fight, well more like a flight.

Jackson tackled him, his strong arms wrapping themselves around his lower body and knocking him to the forest floor. Isaac was quickly at his side and the two of them effectively blocked Scott's path as the rest of the betas cornered him from the rear.

"Traitor! Hunter filth! Derek should have killed you as soon as he found you on our territory." Jackson's eyes were neon blue though he remained in human form. "I think we need to remind you that not all the Hale pack is as merciful as our Alpha."

With the last word leaving his mouth as an enraged growl, Jackson leaped forward to sink his claws into the tender flesh of Scott's abdomen. Twisting away Scott found himself running straight into the left hook thrown by Erica.

Scott stumbled, Boyd's fist driving him to the forest floor, head spinning like a lopsided top. Scott curled, wrapping his arms and tucking his knees to protect his vulnerable stomach as he waited for the beating to come.

Moments ticked by until he slowly raised his head to look at the wolves surrounding him. "What are you waiting for? Did you think I would beg for my life? Just get it over with!"

Erica started for Scott only to be stopped by Isaac's hand and a single word, "Stiles."

" Scott doesn't deserve Stiles." Amber eyes bore into his. "You don't! He's loyal and strong and you are nothing but a worthless, lowly omega" With a final angry snarl that ended up as a howl to the afternoon sky, Erica turned and walked back to the van followed closely by the rest of the betas.

"It would be best if you leave. Leave soon." Boyd leaned over Scott. "Before we reclaim what you stole." With a quick stride, Boyd joined the rest and the van peeled off leaving Scott stranded in the woods as dusk fell.

The Argent house was dark by the time Scott hobbled back from his impromptu trip to the forest. Looked like Stiles wasn't waiting up for him these days. Or speaking to him or looking at him. Hell, it was like living with a ghost.

Part of Scott was glad that Stiles was human and unable to smell the blood and pain on him when he opened the door, but another part of him was in desperate need of his friend's attention if only to soothe his wounds.

"What happened to you?" Stiles might not have a wolf's nose but his eyes were pretty sharp.

"The pack threw me a going away party. I guess you weren't invited." Stiles marched across the room and pulled Scott over to a chair. Flicking on the nearest lamp he set about checking for damages.

"You used to heal faster than this." Stiles gently brushed the edges of the scratches on his abdomen. "I'll clean that up. Stay here." Closing his eyes, Scott relaxed into the chair. It wasn't their old banter but at least Stiles was talking to him again. A little blood and pain was worth that.

Stiles quickly returned with a bowl of warm water and a wash cloth, making short work tending to the few bloody wounds that remained. "Why are you still hurt?"

"I think it's because I'm back to being an Omega. No pack, no extra strength to pull on. I never realized how much just being there with a pack meant to me." Stiles' face went smooth, almost mask-like, as his eyes filled with pain and anger.

"I guess you didn't know how much it meant to both of us." He said softly, a calm that wounded Scott more than yelling or cussing ever could. "Looks like our time here is up. We should leave first thing tomorrow." Leaving the bowl by Scott's side he turned and walked to the room he had taken as his own the last few nights.

"I thought we weren't leaving? That this was home. Why are we leaving now?" Scott's voice echoed up the stairs after his retreating friend. If it had not been for his enhanced hearing he would have never heard the response.

"Because they'll kill you, and you're all I have left."

The sun was peeking over the horizon as Scott drove the battered jeep past the Now Leaving Beacon Hills sign. Being back on the road felt like putting on a favorite pair of old jeans, except they just didn't fit the same perfect way. Scott's life had expanded beyond the cramped space of the jeep and the endless road ahead of him. He had unknowingly found a home and in his ignorance destroyed it.

Shifting his head slightly he looked over at Stiles who had not spoken except for a brief "Yes" or "No" to direct questions. Sighing, Scott had to own up to the fact that he was again responsible for destroying Stiles' life. The pack was right, he didn't deserve Stiles.

The hours passed in silence broken only by the occasional request for a rest stop and food. Scott felt as if he was traveling with a stranger instead of the person he considered his real family. Sighing, he turned off at an exit leading to a small town and multiple fast food choices lining the frontage road. "What do you feel like eating? Faux-Mexican? Chicken? Burgers?"

"I don't care, Scott. Whatever you want." I want forgiveness with a side of turning back time so I can fix my mistakes, Scott thought as he pulled into a family run diner. Somehow he would fix this.

Entering the cheery restaurant the young men were seated by a young woman who smiled brightly at the two. Her bubbling chatter about specials came to a brief halt as she noticed the brand marring Stiles arm. Her smile was back in place as she took their drink orders but seemed strained to Scott. I guess they don't see many hunters anymore, even ex-hunters.

"You should probably get used to covering that up again. I doubt that other packs will be as open to ex-hunters as…" The taste of copper filled his mouth as he snapped his mouth closed on his tongue.

A stiffening of shoulders was the only sign that his statement affected Stiles. "You're right. I hadn't even thought about that. We need more of the scent blocking herbs too. We are both going to have to get back in the habit of being careful. I can't see us being lucky enough to find another pack that would welcome an ex-hunter and his ex-hunter turned Omega wolf into their pack with open arms and hearts."

Wow, that wasn't bitter at all. Scott ducked his head, unable to meet Stiles gaze. "Stiles, I'm sorry."

"I know you are, but that changes nothing. I just don't understand why. Why did you hate the Hale pack so much that you would betray them like that?"

"I didn't hate them. I hated myself."

Stiles sighed and leaned his hard against the back of the booth. "I just wish you had said something before. We could have helped you work through it, Derek would have done so something if you had just spoken up."

Scott felt the jealousy rear its ugly head, the sickening curl of anger and hurt made his stomach churn. "Maybe Derek was part of the problem. I didn't have the same relationship with him as you did. Maybe if he made doe eyes at me all the time, went sniffing around me wherever I went, I wouldn't have had so much trouble fitting in."

Stiles look of shock would have been priceless if it hadn't been laced with such pain and loss. "He never made doe eyes at me."

It was the anger, the jealously that pushed Scott to continue, to twist the knife just a little deeper into his best friend's heart. Deep down he knew he was a true bastard but that didn't stop the words from making their last cut. "Please, you two were like some bad romance story, stumbling around each other all in love and denial. Add some cheesy violin music to the background and you would have had the perfect romantic comedy."

Oh, God! He was such an ass. He knew that even before the tears started to form, glistening at the corner of Stiles' eye. "I think you mean romantic tragedy." Rising from his seat he walked calmly to the bathroom.

Scott dug his nails into his thighs until he could smell his own blood. He couldn't even fathom his own inner workings. Why would he so deliberately hurt his best friend? Was he trying to punish him for loving Derek, getting along better with the pack, or just trying to push him away?

Maybe he needed to push him away. Derek would surely forgive Stiles; take him back into the pack once Scott was out of the picture. But Stiles was too loyal, a friend to the end and all that shit. Damn, he really didn't deserve him.

Engrossed in his own dark thoughts he didn't notice the unnatural quiet until Stiles returned. "Our drinks aren't here? What happen to our waitress?" Scott turned just as a group of men entered the restaurant the last one turning the open sign around and locking the door behind him.

"Wolves. Stiles go, get out the back. They're werewolves." Spreading out the pack moved toward the two friends their eyes flashing from human tints to bright amber and neon blue as they came closer.

"I'm not going out the back." Chancing a quick look over his shoulder, Scott saw an older lady and two more wolves come in from behind them. They were trapped.

Grabbing a chair Scott threw it against the window with all his strength hoping that he could get Stiles out before the wolves took them both down. The window shattered with a satisfying downpour of glass shards. Scrambling over the table, Scott pulled Stiles alone behind him toward the opening, disregarding the cuts to his hands and knees as he clambered over the sharp glass.

"Not so fast hunter." Scott felt Stiles clutch briefly at him before he was dragged backwards and tossed deeper into the restaurant. Launching himself at the nearest wolf, Scott rode him down to the floor, claws buried deep in his throat and his teeth snapping inches from the beta's face.

Rolling under a table Stiles tried to put some space between himself and the approaching wolves. They had left all their weapons in the jeep, an oversight that Scott regretted as he watched Stiles face off against a towering beta with nothing but a diner knife and fork.

"Gonna cut me with a butter knife, Little Hunter?" The laughter sounded like distance thunder coming from the broad chest of the wolf. His smile was cruel as he backed Stiles into a corner.

"What good would that do? This dull thing won't do any damage." Stiles slammed the fork deep into the wolf's chest, twisting it with all his might. "But this might sting a little." He bared his teeth in a feral grin before the wolf's backhand sent him flying.

Using every trick he had learned from his time in Beacon Hills, Scott raged against the pack, frantically trying to get to Stiles. I can't be the death of him. Overpowered, outnumbered, Scott found himself quickly pinned to a table by three of the wolves. From the corner of his eye he could see Stiles hanging limply in the grip of another wolf.

"Enough. Let's not get any more blood on my floor. Take them both down to the storeroom. We don't want witnesses." The alpha pushed open the door she had entered through and the pack immediately drug Scott and Stiles through it.

Stiles made an attempt to break free as he passed the emergency exit but was subdued with another blow to his head. The wolf carrying Stiles kicked open a door at the back of the kitchen and threw Stiles into the darkness.

The crunch was sickening, even more so to Scott's own ears. The half flight of stairs didn't look like much as he was pushed down them, but being thrown by an enraged werewolf made the impact bone shattering. Literally in Stiles' case.

Stiles' arm wouldn't support his weight as he tried to pull himself to his feet. Scott winced as he watched, thinking, Arms should not bend that way. Stiles wouldn't give up so he tried again, rolling to his other side so he could use his unbroken arm to leverage himself upright.

Scott stood between the advancing pack and his downed friend, grasping at anything that would save Stiles. "Hale Pack. We're part of Hale's Pack." The desperation rang sour in the dark storeroom.

"You smell like Omega. Why would Hale take on ex-hunter scum? "The alpha tilted her head in a dog like motion and Scott was surprised Stiles didn't comment on it with his usual mockery. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to give him a call. Let him decide what to do with the two of you."

Pulling an older model flip phone out of her back packet, the alpha quickly flipped through her contacts and connected the call. A giggle bubbled its way out of Stiles. Scott shot a worried glance over his shoulder. "Do you think all the alphas have each other's numbers? I wonder what they gossip about."

Scott dropped to his knees next to Stiles' side keeping him from tilting over as he leaned against the brick wall. "Tell Derek I said 'hi'". Stiles was a mess, his head was bloody, his eyes didn't seem to track and his arm hung at a stomach churning angle by his side.

"Your head is bleeding" Stiles rolled his eyes at that comment, turning slightly green as the movement made him queasy.

"A werewolf hit me, slammed me into a brick wall, and threw me down a flight of stairs. I'm surprised it's not cracked open like an egg."

Vaguely he could make out the alpha talking on the phone, her voice rising in a teasing lilt as she inquired about lost omegas and little hunters that strayed into her town and would he mind too much if she impaled them on a pike.

"You know, all you did was give them more time to think about fun and exciting ways to kill us." Stiles tried to cradle his broken arm to his chest but the pain was too much. He let it dangle, useless at his side, as he closed his eyes.

"You'll think of something. I just gave you some extra time to figure out your latest, brilliant plan."

"God, I hope you are just trying to cheer me up with my impending doom and all. Because if you think I can pull our asses out of this mess then you must have hit your head harder than I did."

The banter felt good. It was something he had missed during the last week. "I don't know if you need to hear it or if it really even matters anymore but I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry. I didn't just turn my back on them, I betrayed you as well." Stiles tried to focus his bleary eyes on his friend but his lids kept drooping closed.

"Hey, idiot. I forgive you. It's what pack does." Stiles slid sideways into Scott's protective grasp, eyes flickering closed, body going completely limp. Pulling him closer, careful of his broken and bruised body, Scott waited for the alphas to decide their fate.


	13. Coming Home

Stiles hated hospitals, but the drugs the nurse pumped into his IV after the surgery to fix his broken arm was making him rethink his "hospitals bad" stance. Damn, who knew that the very air could sing and walls could do the hula. 

His was staring at the gyrating plaster when his mom appeared. Stiles felt he handled her arrival well considering she had been dead for the last twelve years. 

"Hi Mom. I've missed you." He blinked back a flood of tears, his mother looked exactly like he remembered her before the long stay at the hospital than drained away her light as the cancer ate away at her body.

Smiling sadly, she moved closer but didn't take Stiles' outstretched hand. "I'm proud of you. You always had a strong heart, even as a child. You always tried to protect the ones you cared about no matter the consequences."

"I haven't done such a great job with the protecting. So far I think I have hurt everyone that I love. Now there's just me."

The nurse walked in to check his blood pressure and his mom dissipated like morning mist. "On a scale of one to ten, where would you rate your pain?"

Stiles hadn't been feeling the pain, focused more on his mother's presence, but as soon as the nurse mentioned it his arm began to throb insistently. "About a seven."

Nodding the nurse made a quick notation in his chart. "I'll get you another shot in just a few minutes. Are you feeling nauseous or disorientated?"

"No, nothing like that." Stiles was keeping the whole 'I see dead people' to himself. He could deal with a few hallucinations; at least it gave him someone to talk to since it didn't look like he would be receiving visitors anytime soon. He wondered briefly about Scott's whereabouts before the nurse returned with another shot of the wonder pain killer that she efficiently added to his IV, sending him back to LaLa Land.

Blinking open eyelids weighed down by lashes that seemed to have gained quite a bit of extra mass, Stiles vision focused on his newest visitor. His Dad's sad face peered over the bed as he whispered apologies for leaving Stiles the way he had only to be replaced by the scowling visage of Owen in a mirage like shimmer, who ranted about his weakness as a hunter, that he was an embarrassment to the family and tradition, unworthy of the hunter brand.

"As if I ever wanted the mark you heartless son of a bitch. When was I ever given a choice in the matter? You tried to mold me into your version of a perfect hunter but that's was never who I was, it's definitely not who I am now." Thrashing upward Stiles lunged for his dead leader making it halfway out of his bed before the nurses and an orderly managed to restrain him.

"He's having a reaction to the pain medicine. We need to restrain him until it's out of his system." The nurse's words washed meaninglessly over his head as Stiles faced another old friend. Paul, neck a bloody mass of torn veins and muscle, wavered in and out of his vision.

"Sorry, sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't save you too. I'm sorry I wasn't a better leader." Paul shook his head, causing his head to wobble precariously, and vanished. Stiles twisted one last time against the restraints holding him in the bed before letting his body relax. The nurse's conversations flowed around him as they tucked the covers tighter around his shaking body and left him for sleep and restless dreams to claim.

The sun was shining through the opening in the curtain on the far side of the hospital room brightening his small room as Stiles opened sleep blurred eyes to gaze upon the hallucination of the day.

"They should register your body as the eighth wonder of the world or something. But then there would be all those pesky tourists and you would need a concession stand and a gift shop. You could sell werewolf key chains and charge a fee to let people pet your abs. Hell, I'd pay money to do that."

Derek's vivid green eyes widened. Stepping closer to the bed he laid a warm hand on Stiles' unbroken arm, fingers clasping around the hunters brand almost hiding it from Stiles' sight. Forcing his words past a chest full of frozen lungs and pounding heart, Stiles let the truth pour out, no longer willing to remain silent, even knowing it was too little and much too late. "I love you. I have for months but didn't know what to do about it and then Scott was an idiot and I lost it all. I never had the chance to find out if there could have been something between us, something more than just a place in your pack. Maybe I could have found a place in your heart."

Derek's grip tightened as he leaned closer, "Stiles." The hallucination was cut abruptly off by the arrival of another shift of efficient nurses pushing their way past the alpha to check Stiles' blood pressure, bandages, and add cryptic notes to the bottom of his hospital chart. By the time they were finished Derek had vanished. Sighing, Stiles pulled the covers up almost over his head and retreated into an uneasy sleep.

Stiles' next bout of wakefulness was hallucination free. His arm ached and itched but at least the ghosts of his past didn't show up to visit. A wizened doctor walked in without a word, checking his chart and body with a brisk efficiency that spoke of years of experience.

"You seemed to have had a rather unfortunate reaction to the pain medication you were given but other than that you seem to be healing nicely. I will sign off on you and we can get you released by this afternoon." Not waiting for a response the doctor moved quickly out of the room and onto his next patient, his quick step and spry movements a contradiction to his ancient appearance.

Left alone and clear headed for the first time since he had been brought to the hospital, Stiles wondered about Scott. Pushing the call button he tried to keep the growing panic in his chest at bay while he waited for a nurse to arrive.

"Good Morning. I see you are feeling better today." A bubbly young nurse entered in response to the call button.

"I had a friend with me. He wasn't hurt, but he wouldn't have just left me here. His name is Scott. Do you know where he is?"

"Oh, yes. He must be the young man that brought you in. He left some things for you with your clothing." Smiling warmly she completed her checks of the IV bag and other equipment. "We should be able to remove this in a little while. I'm sure you're tired of being attached to all these tubes and wires." Another friendly smile and a warm pat on his shoulder and she left with a cheerful wave.

Being alone in a room with nothing to distract him but a cable-less TV and his own ragged thoughts gave Stiles plenty of opportunity to envision the worst possible scenario for why Scott wouldn't be at the hospital with him. Did the pack want to make an example of him? Could Derek have only okayed his release and left Scott to the other packs not so tender mercies.

None of his thoughts were happy ones and the panic quickly built until his skin practically hummed with the urge to do something, anything, to find out what happened to Scott.  


"Let's get the IV out of you and you can get dressed while the rest of your paperwork is signed off on. I brought you the clothes your friend left behind for you." Placing a small bag on the bed the nurse left the room as quickly as she arrived.

Looking through the duffle Stiles found clothes, toiletries, an envelope with some cash and a letter in Scott's handwriting. With a calm that belied his growing apprehension he opened the letter.

Stiles,  
It seems that you are always the one looking out for me even when it goes against your own happiness and well being. You can't protect me from the mistakes I have brought upon myself and I can't let you continue to give up living your own life to help me live mine. As an omega I will draw the attention of every pack we encounter and with our brands it is only time before one of them kills you. I haven't been the friend you needed and I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I'm taking the coward's way out by writing a letter but I hope you will forgive me this one last time and live your own life.  
Always your friend,  
Scott

His tears blurred the ink on the cheap paper before he had even finished the letter. Crumpling it in his fist Stiles let it drop to the floor. He was well and truly alone. 

The trip down the hospital hallway was long and lonely. Pulling his old red hoodie up and hiking the recyclable Target bag his cheery nurse had found for him to carry his meager belongings, Stiles flipped a mental coin and headed left as he exited the hospital. He could feel their eyes on him long before he saw them lurking across the street.

The wolves from the diner leaned against an aging Buick and showing inhumanly sharp teeth when Stiles made eye contact. Picking up speed he hurried down the street wondering why they even bothered to stalk him.

If they wanted me dead why waste the time taking me to the hospital to get patched up? Maybe they are just making sure I leave town, their version of an anti-welcome party.  


Ahead of him, near the next intersection, stood another wolf on the sidewalk with the clear intention of intercepting him. Stiles was forced to turn down the side street or risk crossing paths with the much larger and clearly unfriendly wolf. Stiles did his best to pick up speed, his cast wrapped arm pressed tightly against his aching chest. 

So intent on watching the stalking pack, Stiles didn’t see the sleek black car until he almost ran into its side door as it turned to block his path. “Stiles. Get in the car.”  
Slack jawed; Stiles stared at Derek through the passenger side window. Frozen in place he couldn’t seem to move forward or backwards.

“What are you doing? Don’t stand there, get in!”

Stiles’ brain to survival instinct filter was notoriously absent, which is the only explanation he could come up with for his cheeky response. “I’m trying to decide.”  


Derek didn’t respond but his eloquently raised eye brows clearly relayed his “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Are you the rock or the hard place; the frying pan or the fire?” A glance down the street revealed the pack standing at the corner of the street waiting to see what would happen.  


Sighing, shoulders slumping with exhaustion and surrender, Stiles entered the Camaro. The door had barely shut before Derek was screeching around the corner away from the wolves, heading for the edge of town.

“Where is your idiot?” My idiot, Stiles snorted. Leaning his head back against the headrest he spared a moment to worry about his runaway friend. 

“He left. Said that I was safer without him and took off before I even woke up. He left me a note about how I was better off without him and took the jeep.”

At Derek’s soft growl Stiles slid lower in his seat, wrapping his arms around his chest and pulling his knees closer. “What are your plans?”

“Plans?” Stiles had always had a plan, from a bubbling youngster trying to parachute out his parents second story window with nothing more than a sheet to his leadership with the hunters trying to survive against increasing odds, he had always be able to come up with the plan.

“I don’t know. Get out of town before the pack decided to finish what they started. After that, I have no idea.”

“Do you have money?” Derek’s voice was even as if he was talking to an acquaintance and not a person that had lived with him for over six months, a person he believed had betrayed him. Stiles wished he would yell or snarl because it would mean he meant more to Derek that as some charity case that he picked up “I’ve got a little over two hundred.

I’ll be okay. Why are you here Derek? What do you want with me?”

Rolling his hips Derek reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet opening it one handed and pulling out a stack of cash. He handed it over to Stiles without looking at him. “The Barrow’s pack called me. Apparently Scott claimed my protection and they are close enough neighbors that we have safe passage rights on their territory. They called me and I came. Otherwise they would have killed you both.”

Stiles wanted to toss the money back at Derek but knowing what was ahead of him on the open road he folded the bills, adding them to his cracked and beaten wallet. Derek drove in silence until well passed the city limits, pulling off onto the drive of an old, run down rest station surrounded by trees and hidden from the main road. 

Shutting off the engine Derek sat with his eyes closed while Stiles twitched in the seat next to him. A bloody end to his pain in the ass hunter didn’t seem to be a plausible explanation for his decision to stop at this hidden ruin. If Derek wanted him dead he could have just NOT shown up. Stiles had run through a dozen scenarios before Derek finally spoke.

“You need to head north. There are no packs between here and the state line. You should be fine.”

“Oh.” Stiles knew he should move, get out of the car but found himself unable to move. This was it, his last chance to let Derek know how he felt. Even if it was his final goodbye he had to take this last chance. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Derek stiffen and turn his way. 

“Damn it Stiles,” Derek managed to get out before his arms were full of desperate human. Stiles didn’t use style or finesse, just passion and the knowledge that he had mere moments before Derek pulled away. These few seconds were all that he would have, the only way he could show that his time with the Hale Pack had meant something to him.

Derek broke the kiss gently, holding Stiles by the shoulders as the younger man rested his head against broad shoulders. “I think it’s too late for this, too much has happened that I just can’t…” Pausing Derek seemed to search for the end of his sentence.

“Forgive.” Stiles nodded keeping his eyes down so as not to see the rejection in the alpha’s eyes. “You can’t forgive me. I knew that. I just needed to let you know, just this once, how I really feel. I didn’t expect it to change anything.”

Gathering his bag Stiles stepped out of the car and walked to the crumbling rest station men’s room, unable to look as Derek pulled out. Not willing to watch as the hope he had felt and hidden deep inside drove away. 

The door was half rotten and hung drunkenly on its hinges. The lack of working lights kept most of the room’s stains and blemishes hidden from the casual eye but there was no hiding the chipped basin and broken mirrors. Ancient declarations of Johnny loves Paula Diana Mike decorated the remains of the single stall.

The face reflected back at him was broken into dozens of warped and twisted images each with hallow, hopeless eyes staring out into a bleak future. His brand edged into view as his sleeve rode up his arm. Receiving it had been but a moment of pain, more of an uncomfortable prickling sensation than the white hot agony he had expected. It was the smell that stuck with him, haunting his dreams for months afterwards. 

You would think that something that continued to bind and control his life would have come with a greater cost in pain and blood.

“No more.” Stiles whispered to his cracked reflections. Lifting one of the loose shards from the mirror he let it slide across the surface of his skin, teasing the hairs of his arm. Pressing deeper, blood welling as he gritted his teeth against the pain he expected to feel. It wasn’t until he finished the first slice, an inch long curl of skin rolled loosely against the blood and exposed flesh that the aching, stomach churning sting began.

He started his next cut higher, pressing downward so that the two strips would meet and remove the lower half of the brand completely. When finished the lower half of the brand lay in a sink painted red with Stiles’ blood. It was almost perfect in the way it landed, showing the ragged break of the shaft where the cut started and finishing with the arrowhead. 

A broken arrow. How poetic.

The door tore away from the warped hinges with a high pitch whine of old steel. Stiles turned, wavering slightly at the shocky feeling of watching his blood drip caught up with him, to face the intruder with the glass shard clinched hard enough to slice his palm and fingers through the cast.

“What the hell are you doing to yourself?” Derek’s roar reverberated through the small space.

“Trying to make it all go away.” 

The wolf seemed to fill the room well beyond the physical space his body possessed. “Why would you do this to yourself? Do you know how easy it would be to accidentally cut too deep? Stiles, you could have killed yourself.” Nails dug deep into his shoulders, Derek gave Stiles a quick shake. “Is that what you are trying to do?”

“It’s just a layer of skin. I’m not stupid enough to do something permanent. I’m going to have to live the rest of my life out there and I don’t need every wolf I run into trying to kill me. You can’t keep coming back for me.”

“Stiles, if you ever need me, I will come.” Pulling off his outer shirt Derek wrapped the wound, stanching the flow of blood. His presence was a comfort that Stiles couldn’t let himself be drawn into, not again.

“No. You can’t keep coming back. I have to learn to be on my own, stand on my own two feet, to be able to keep my breath in my lungs and my heart in my chest. Every time you come back, even when it’s just in dreams, I lose all my bearings.”

Stiles struggled weakly against Derek’s hold, trying to pull his injured arm out of the wolf’s cradled hold. “The hope is killing me. Please, just go.”

“I can’t.” Pulling Stiles closer, Derek tucked the shorter man’s head against his chest and held him tight. “I sat in my car telling myself to leave you and never look back. I couldn’t do it and then I smelled your blood and all I could think was that kiss was meant as a goodbye.”

Stiles snorted. “I’m not suicidal. I just wanted to get rid of the brand.”

Warm hands cupped his chin, bringing his head up as Derek kissed him, mouth warm and inviting. His wounded arm trapped against Derek’s body made it harder to press against his lean plains but Stiles draped his free arm around his neck, lifting himself so that he could deepen the kiss. Tongues teased and traced finding each contour of the other’s mouth. Stiles registered that the soft moaning sounds were coming from him but didn’t care especially when after a louder one Derek lifted him and pinned him against the wall, hands clutching his ass to keep him in position as well as press their hips closer together. 

When Derek finally pulled away from the kiss Stiles rested his head against the alphas heaving chest unwilling to separate a moment more before it was necessary. Derek curled one hand behind Stiles’ neck and the other was pressed to his lower back keeping their hips locked together. “What am I going to do with you?”

In a flash of honesty if not dignity Stiles replied, “Anything you want.”

“You can’t expect to be welcomed back into the pack. They don’t have the same vested interest in you as I do.”

Stiles nodded, head still pressed to Derek’s chest. Vested interest? It sounded positive.

“There will have to be some changes once you get back. You must start acting more submissive. Before you could be seen as a visiting alpha, Scott being more your pack than mine but now you will just be an omega vying for a place in my pack. That’s one option.”

“I can be more submissive. I’ve always been submissive toward you. You are the alpha.”

The vibrations through Derek’s chest as he laughed made Stiles press just a little closer to his warm body as he lifted his head to place a series of kisses under Derek’s chin. “You have never been submissive. You challenge me at every turn, you never lower your eyes, and have acted in the most un-submissive way possible.”

“Sorry, alpha. I’ll try harder,” Stiles placed a soft nip against the skin at Derek jugular, “to be more submissive.” Derek took possession of Stiles’ mouth, pressing him back against the wall, sucking his tongue into his mouth as he swirled and teased it. Stiles couldn’t help the wild buck of his hips as he tried to get some needed friction against Derek’s black clad leg.

Derek stepped away after breaking of the heated kiss, putting some space between him and the heated human. “Or we can go with your other option. I can claim you as my mate but that would be permanent. If we choose that option there will be not going back for either of us. You could never leave the pack Stiles; you would be with us, with me forever. Wolves don’t divorce, we don’t split up. You will be mine.”

Stiles didn’t even need to weigh his options, to think long and hard about the decision he was about to make. A chance of a home, a family, and the person he had allowed himself to love were being dangled in front of him. All he had to do was say yes.

“Yes. Yours. Your mate, your pack. Yes, Derek.”

Derek watched him; head tilted just slightly in the way Stiles had learned meant he was listening to the truth in his heartbeat. Hearing nothing but certainty, Derek smiled making him look younger. “Then let’s go home.”


	14. Back in the Pack

The rest of the trip back to Hale Territory was uncomfortably quiet. Stiles kept reminding himself that he was heading home but he couldn’t help the underlining sense that what he had done could never be forgiven. He had always been able to see both side of an argument, which had made him a natural mediator with the Hunters. Stiles could see exactly how his actions looked and felt to the pack. Even if he wasn’t the one to lead the attack, to break their trust, he was the one who the pack saw as siding with Scott when he pleaded for the traitor’s life. 

The warm pressure of Derek’s hand on his knee brought him out of his dark thoughts. “It’s not going to be easy for you to bring me back into the pack.” Stiles watched the trees thicken as they traveled closer to home and pack.

“Things worthwhile rarely are. You don’t have to come back. This has to be what you want because it will be permanent.” 

Stiles covered Derek’s hand with his own and squeezed. “It’s everything I want but that doesn’t make the worry go away.”

By the time they pulled in front of the Hale house the shadows had lengthened, stretching their dark fingers across the lawn and up to the front porch. The lights of the house were out making it look empty and cold. “You know you will have to face them on your own first. I will be there to support you but you and the rest of the pack need to work this out if you want to be accepted fully.” Cupping the back of Stiles’ head and bringing their foreheads gently together for a second, the alpha breathed in his chosen’s scent. With a quick kiss on Stiles’ cheek, Derek exited the car and walked quickly up the stairs before stopping at the top, leaning against one of the supports. 

Stiles was left to struggle with his seatbelt and door, the cast caught at a bad angle making it hard to get a grip on the handle. By the time he rolled out of the door, bag tangling his feet and causing him to trip, the wolves had surrounded the car in complete silence. Their eyes, glowing ambers and neon blue, flashed like angry fireflies.

“You dare show yourself on pack land? After you left us? Betrayed us?” Jackson stalked his way out of the shadows as if the every darkness that surrounded him was taking form.   
Rage translated smoothly into pacing, each pass bringing Jackson closer to where Stiles stood. “I never betrayed the pack. I had no idea what Scott was planning. I would have stopped him, warned you, done something.” 

“You sided with hunters, went crawling back to your old family as soon as you had the chance.”

"I never knew he was planning anything. The first inkling I had was when the other hunters were Tazing me and locking me in the warehouse. I swear if I had known anything, if I had just the smallest suspicion that Scott was thinking of hurting you...”

"You still would have tried to protect him." Jackson cut him off, anger and rage pouring off of him in an almost visible wave as he stepped closer to a now trembling Stiles. "You would have still chosen him over the pack."

“I didn’t choose Scott over the pack; I just wanted him to be spared. I never would have stood by his decision to attack you. Just because I wanted Scott alive didn't mean I was taking his side against you. Yes, I was trying to protect him, just like I was trying to protect you when I found out their plan.”

“You left with him. Left the pack, left Beacon Hills for someone that could turn his back on all of us. How can you justify that?”

“When your family hurts you, it doesn’t make you love them any less. And I didn’t leave Beacon Hills until you forced my hand by trying to kill Scott.”

"He's not your blood, he's not family." 

"Family is more than being related. You, as a wolf, should know this. Your pack is family. Family is love and caring about a person’s well-being and watching out for them even when they are total idiots. Family is forgiving when someone makes a mistake."

"Scott doesn't deserve your forgiveness." Jackson was so close that Stiles could make out small purple flecks in his glowing irises but he didn’t back down or drop his gaze. 

"I know, but no one deserves forgiveness. That’s the whole point. You forgive them because your heart tells you too. You forgive so that you can be whole again."

"You left your family Stiles, that's what a pack is; a family and you turned your back on us and left with that traitor."

“You didn’t give me much choice,” Stiles snarled back. “You attacked him and threatened to kill him if we didn’t get out of town. You forced my hand and forced me out. Don’t blame me for leaving when it was the pack who showed me the door.” Stiles’ broken arm throbbed in agony as he pushed his cast against Jackson’s chest forcing him backwards a step before the wolf reacted.

The response was explosive and Stiles found himself skidding backwards across the gravel on his ass, tiny rocks and bits of dirt imbedding in his palm where he braced his fall.  
Stiles was back on his feet and halfway to Jackson, heedless of his injuries when Derek’s voice ripped through the dusk. “Enough.” It wasn’t roared or howled or even spoken in a raised tone but his voice was pure alpha, not to be denied; only total submission was accepted.

The pack dropped like marionettes with their strings cut. Erica and Isaac were down on both knees with their heads almost touching the ground and Boyd was down on one knee but crouched low. Jackson went down like a knight kneeling to his liege, slowly and with dignity his head held high but eyes downcast.

Red eyes locked on Stiles and a low rumble filled the evening air. Flashes of conversation repeated in Stiles’ brain as he crossed the yard toward Derek; 'you’ve never been submissive, always a challenge, things will have to change when you come back to the pack'. Stiles could feel the tension building as he passed the wolves; see the rising fury in Derek’s glowing eyes.

He stopped an arm’s reach away from Derek and dropped to his knees, head bowed. “Alpha.”

Derek made a soft chuffing sound as he pulled Stiles back onto his feet. “It’s a little late to start acting submissive now. Mates are equals.” The sharp exhale of shock from the pack was ignored. “You didn’t leave on your own?” At Stiles’ silent shake Derek turned to look at his first beta. “Jackson, what is this about an attack on Scott and Stiles. I never authorized a confrontation.”

“He betrayed the pack. We couldn’t just let him remain in town unpunished. He was omega, without pack. I had to drive him out.”

“The pack was told that Stiles was not to be harmed.” Derek’s voice didn’t rise above a calm questioning tone as was all the more scary for its blandness. “Are you challenging my decisions?”

“No alpha.” Jackson dropped to both knees and bowed his head.

Derek reached down and pulled Stiles up by his good arm, spinning him so he was facing the pack, back pressed to Derek’s chest, warm arms pinning him in place around his waist and shoulders. “Stiles will be rejoining our pack.” Shimmering eyes looked up in shock at the alpha’s declaration. “I have offered and he has accepted. I Claim him as Mate.”

Blunted teeth tore into the muscled flesh of his shoulder. Stiles would have screamed but his breath was stolen away by the flood of pain and he was only able to release a shuddering inhaled gasp. Derek’s tongue traced the outline of imprint, licking the blood away from the wound and cleaning it. The tip dipped into each tear in the skin working his saliva deep into the open wound.

With eyes closed Stiles could see the pack, muted colors coming clearing with each pass of Derek’s tongue. The alpha was the first to come into focus his anger at Scott and the pain he brought to his pack still burning bright but eclipsed by the magnesium glow of his love and a need to protect his mate that seared the very air around him.

Jackson was a reddish-brown like old blood. His rage and anger masking the deeper hurt of Scott’s betrayal. He felt like a scab covered infection, the sickness lurking just underneath needing to be cleansed before spreading.

Isaac and Erica were mottled colored, greens and yellows of old and healing bruises. In the two of them, Stiles could see a readiness to forgive and a need to have him back in the pack. 

Boyd was solid and still, a dark blue presence, one that held himself apart for the hurt of the pack because he would not let them close enough to cause him pain. Like an ancient boulder left behind in a sea of grass Boyd stood alone and apart from the pack that surrounded him. Stiles felt himself reaching through the pack link to push away the blue and have Boyd fully join the pack. 

As soon as Stiles started affecting the pack bonds he noticed the damage created by Scott’s attack. Linked throughout the bonds were the blackened remains of his friend’s link, burned away by his betrayal leaving heavy scars among the wolves.

Stiles could see his own link in the pack, a gaping maw open and seeping, waiting to be healed. He pushed his own sorrow and shame, his need for forgiveness and belonging through the bonds and felt acceptance and understanding echoed back.

His knees buckled and Stiles would have dropped to the dirt at Derek’s feet if now for the strong arms supporting him. “Shh, this won’t last. The link is overwhelming at first but it will fade with time. Just hold on to me and everything will be fine.”

He was pack, each breath; each beat of his heart was in tune with the wolves that surrounded him. It was if they were part of his skin and he was the blood in their veins. Caught between pleasure and pain, Stiles clung to Derek as he regained his footing and the world swam back into focus.

It was strange looking at the pack now. He could see both their physical forms and the emotional aspects through the link. Stiles took a tentative step toward Jackson wanting to heal the pain he would feel so strongly down the link. 

"I haven't felt whole since you left. It's like I'm a table with a missing leg just waiting to topple over. You left your pack." Jackson turned his last word into an enraged snarl, forcing Stiles backwards as he fisted his shirt. A warning growl from Derek slowed Jackson's assault of Stiles' shirt and he quickly released him smoothing his hand down the fabric as he stepped away.

“I didn’t leave Jackson. You pushed me away. We can work on becoming whole.” Neon blue eyes flashed once and then returned to their usual human color. Jackson shook his head and backed away from Stiles and the rest of the pack.

“It’s not that easy. You can’t expect to be able to put back the pieces just by coming back.” Turning, Jackson loped swiftly into the forest followed by the rest of the back leaving only Derek and Stiles in front of the empty house.

Derek slipped his arms around his new mate and pulled him tighter into his embrace. “That went better than I thought it would,” Stiles whispered as he leaned backwards.

“I don’t want to rush you.” Turning Stiles, Derek looked him in the eye as he tried to explain. “You will need time to better understand the links a pack forms so we will take this slow.”

“Huh?” Stiles couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off Derek’s lips as they formed deliciously shaped words, his tongue teasing him with hints of pink and the occasional swipe of moisture across Derek’s upper lip. He was so busy watching Derek speak that he didn’t process a single word he said. 

“You will sleep in my room, in my bed because you are my mate.”

Being newly linked to a pack of wolves and mated to an alpha that he had been steadily falling in love with for the last six months was much like being pleasantly buzzed. “I don’t see any problem with that.” Stiles smiled and tilted slightly.

“I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Well crap!

(*************************************************)

Stiles woke to a warmth at his back and a long arm wrapped around his waist. A quick sleep fogged glance proved that it wasn’t Derek which was mildly disappointing. “Are you awake?” Isaac snuggled closer until his breath tickled Stiles’ nape.

“No.” Stiles wiggled deeper into the covers hiding his smile in a pillow.

“Okay.” Isaac threw a leg over Stiles’ hips and blew softly against his neck. “Are you awake now?”

“No.” Stiles burrowed a little deeper. “I thought the pack was mad at me. Do you usually wake people you are mad at up with snuggles or I is it just me?”

“It’s just you.” Isaac tucked Stiles tighter against his body. It was strangely NOT intimate considering how closely pressed the wolf was to his body and Stiles found himself smiling at the betas antics as he blew another puff of breath into his ear.

“Breakfast is almost ready. Derek wants you downstairs.” Stiles almost choked on a pillow as he inhaled rapidly and then giggled. That was almost the exact thing Isaac had said to him that first morning when he woke up chained to Derek’s bed. As if reading his mind, Isaac added, “At least I didn’t need the keys this time.”

“You didn’t need them last time either.” Rolling out of bed Stiles found himself easily slipping into his usual morning routine albeit using a different bathroom and fighting down some body tingling thoughts as he washed himself clean in Derek’s shower. 

Breakfast was, per normal were-dining, heavy on the breakfast meats and protein. Derek filled his plate to the brim and then Stiles’, making sure that there were a couple of pieces of extra bacon on his plate. Stiles was beginning to understand that pork products was the equivalent to diamonds within a pack. True love thy name is sausage. Glancing up at Derek through his lashes and adding a flutter just to make sure his message was loud and clear, Stiles placed a piece of bacon back on the edge of Derek’s plate. Green eyes locked onto his honey brown as Derek quickly picked up the offering and ate it in two bites. Damn, bacon was his new kink.

Stiles let his eyes close as his body truly relaxed for the first time since Scott had pulled into the abandoned warehouse. With Derek’s warm presence to his left and the rest of the pack surrounding him Stiles felt at peace. He felt like he had finally come home.


	15. Back with the Pack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is back with his pack, mated to the alpha but the waiting is driving him crazy.

A week passed. 

A whole fucking week, or in Stiles’ case, a whole _non-fucking_ week, or touching, or even kissing. Derek spent his nights on the couch in the name of giving Stiles the time and space to adjust to the newness of the claim.  He kept repeating that he wanted to give Stiles time, to not rush the human and give him time to heal.

Apparently being a human mated to an alpha had some major perks because within a week Stiles’ cast was off and he was feeling physically better than ever.  But mentally, Stiles was about to go out of his mind.  So far, except for his new sleeping arrangement, he couldn’t tell how his position within the pack changed from before, the betas basically treated him the same except for the cuddling.  Some days if he stayed too long in one place he would end up with most of the pack draped over him to the point of suffocation.  

Here he was, sleeping in the alpha’s bed and publicly claimed by said alpha and the most action he could count on was the daily snuggles from the rest of the betas.  Everyone except Jackson and Derek had paraded through his bed and plastered their bodies against his own.  He awoke each morning in a tangle of arms and legs, his body warmed by their heat and his chest moist with their drool.  _I think Isaac might be part Saint Bernard_.

“So am I the pack’s official pillow?” Stiles asked one morning as he worked his way out of the grip of a sleepy Isaac. 

“Nope.”

“Chew toy?” Erica responded to his quip by playfully biting Stiles on his ass.  “Joking, damn literal wolves.”

Boyd stretched, his massive body suddenly taking all the space on the bed and Stiles, Isaac, and Erica ended up piled on the floor.  Rolling to his feet and stepping over the offended heap of bedmates he walked out the door calling over his shoulder, “You’re the alpha’s mate.”  As if that explained it all.

Damn alpha.  Maybe it was time to take matters into his own hands and Stiles set about to devise a plan to bed his reluctant wolf.    

 

Mornings were back to the pre-Scott fiasco routine.  A huge breakfast followed by an hour of digesting and then pack exercise and training.  Stiles normally rushed his morning shower in order to be down in the kitchen before the last of the platters were placed on the table, not wanting the pack to have to wait on him.  Today would be different.  

He could judge how much time he had by the smells that wafted up the stairs.  The scent of warm pancakes and coffee meant that he had about five minutes before the bacon started to cook.  Plenty of time for him to be just a bit late for breakfast.  

Stepping into the shower he gave himself a moment to be nervous.  With their powerful hearing Stile knew that each wolf downstairs would be aware of his actions, which was the plan but still embarrassing. 

Stiles closed his eyes as the water cascaded upon him, steam rising up to enclose him in its mists.  A mischievous smile tugged his lips upward as his hands traveled down his body, mind focused on Derek and how much he wanted and desired his mate.  Through the pack bonds, that hadn’t lessened, he could feel the wolves’ attention converge on him as he made his first, purposely loud, moan as he stroked himself.

With one hand braced against the tile, Stiles tugged and twisted thumb rubbing over his tip as he imagined Derek, in all his shirtless glory, behind him, against him, touching him. “God, Derek, harder!” he cried as he came panting and leaning heavily against the side of the shower.

Toweling off quickly, he pulled on a shirt and a pair of sweats before hurrying down the stairs.  The table was completely set, all the pack were sitting in their usual places waiting for him to arrive.  The beta’s smiles were all very obvious in their absence.  Only twinkling eyes that wouldn’t meet his own gave any indication to their amusement.

Derek sat with his head down, ears tipped bright red.  As Stiles passed him to get to his seat, he let his hand drag slowly across his back.  “Sorry I’m late.  I was a little,” He paused for just a beat, fingers drifting down the alpha’s arm, “busy.”

Erica snorted delicately.  “We were starting to think you wouldn’t come.”

Meeting Erica’s gleeful gaze from under his thick lashes, Stiles couldn’t help his teasing reply.  “Oh, I was coming.”  Isaac seemed to choke on the oxygen in the room while Boyd and Erica covered their mouths to keep their laughter in check.  

Derek left long furrows in the table where is nails suddenly became claws as he gripped the surface.  Stiles could feel his mate’s **_want_** through the link and let his knee slide along Derek’s leg.  Derek, outwardly calm, served himself and Stiles before passing the plate of eggs around the table, followed by the pancakes and bacon.  No one touched their food until Derek placed his first forkful of eggs into his mouth then the pack inhaled their food.  

Stiles kept all his ‘wolfing down their food’ puns to himself as he watched in awe as the betas finished off their breakfast in record time.  Erica, Isaac and Boyd rose to their feet so quickly that their chairs teetered on the edge of toppling over.  Jackson, still eating his pancakes, grumbled as they tugged him along with mumbled excuses of forgotten training and perimeter checks.

“Get off me,” snarled Jackson.  “Stop looking at me like that.  So we’re leaving them alone so Stiles can drag Derek’s stubborn ass upstairs so they can fuck like rabbits instead of just looking at each other and making the rest of us uncomfortable.  Yeah, I got the memo, assholes.”  Snatching his pancake off his plate and shooting Stiles one last angry glare, Jackson stomped off after the retreating betas.

“Okay, that was a little less subtle than I planned.”

Derek chuckled.  “You were going for subtle with that shower?”

Stiles sighed running a hand through his hair making its wet strands stick up in an appealing fashion. “I’m tired of waiting.  I don’t need any more time to make up my mind about how I feel about you and being claimed.  I had myself settled after the first night.  Now I’m starting to wonder if this was just a ruse to keep me safe from the pack and you really don’t want me but that doesn’t make sense.  I know you want me, a can feel it through the link and I know I want you. I’ve decided that you need to stop waiting for me to adjust.  Believe me, I’m as adjusted as I going to get.”

Standing from his chair, Stiles leaned over and kissed Derek letting his hands roam down his muscular back before pulling away. “So, I will be up in OUR room,” he slid his shirt off over his head and let it drop the floor.  “In OUR bed,” still using a normal tone of voice as he walked away, knowing the wolf hearing would pick it up even if whispered, “Naked.” Stiles popped his button and let his pants drift down his hips as he started up the stairs.  “If you take too long though I might just have to take care of this,” stroking his erection, “without you.” With a wiggle that was in full view of the stunned alpha at the bottom of the stairs Stiles slid off his briefs and entered the room, leaving the door wide open in invitation.

_Here wolfie, wolfie, wolfie._

 Stiles didn’t even have time to make it to the bed.  Derek lifted him off his feet; carrying him the last few steps toward the mattress before throwing him onto the bed.  

One strong hand cupped his ass and the other his head as Derek kissed him, taking away his breath as their mouths met. Derek traced every crevasse, his tongue working its way deeper as he pulled Stiles’ body even closer to his own. Stiles pushed himself further up the bed and reached in the small bedside drawer which he had spent the last week of sexual frustration stocking to the brim.  Just a little on the frantic and overly needy side he pulled out a large tube and a handful of condoms.  Derek’s eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled. “I think you are over estimating my stamina.  I’m flattered though.”

“I think you are under estimating my need.  Now get in the bed before I pull out Plan B.”

Derek crawled up the bed, an action that was sexier than it had any right to be.  He was lust in the flesh, shoulders rolling and hips swaying as he came to rest between Stiles’ legs.  “Plan B?,” he asked, running one finger up the inside of Stiles’ leg starting at the knee and ending just shy of the area Stiles was wishing he would touch.

“It involves lots of rope, maybe some chains, and you helpless on the bed, naked.” Derek’s breath ghosted along the length of Stiles’ chest as he nipped and kissed his way down his body.  Stiles fisted the sheets, his hips thrusting wantonly under Derek’s gentle touch.  “Derek! Please.”

The alpha worked his way up Stiles’ body leaving behind a trail of wet kisses and blooming marks until he covered the smaller man completely.  “You need to be sure Stiles.”

“I’ve been sure for months.  You are the only thing I’m sure of in my life.”

Filled with need, Derek surged forward, attacking Stiles with months of pent up passion and desire as arched his back bringing his hips up to press against Derek’s in a slow grind, the friction of his skin against Derek’s jeans sending sparks of arousal up his spine.

Fumbling fingers struggled with the button of Derek’s dark jeans with little help from the undulating alpha.  “Get out of your pants.  Please.”  The desperation burning in his voice when Derek didn’t move quickly enough to suit his growing need, Stiles arched his back again and twisted, hooking a leg around Derek’s waist and forcing him onto his back.  

From his position on top Stiles let himself take a moment and admire the body beneath him, smooth chest with hard pecs and an abdomen that rippled with muscle.  He traced over the skin with a reverent touch until his fingers brushed the waistband of Derek’s jeans. Derek’s body stilled as Stiles furiously tore off his remaining clothes, Derek’s hips lifted slightly to allow Stiles to slide the pants off and toss them aside. 

Eyes closed and head tilted back, Stiles opened himself up fully to the link with his mate.  The passion he felt was incandescent with a warmth that wound itself up into his very core.  Still new to the bond, Stiles tried to press his own feelings of love and desire, all the comfort and trust he had for his mate down the link, trying to let Derek see what he couldn’t put into words.  

“What are you thinking Stiles?”

“That I want to claim you as well, plant my flag and scream for all to hear that you belong to me.”  As he spoke, Stiles ran blunted human fingers up and down the inside of Derek’s thighs, each pass getting closer to Derek’s erection.

“Damn it Stiles, keep talking like that and I won’t be responsible for the things I end up doing to you.”

“Promises, promises.” Stiles licked and kissed his way up Derek’s body, echoing the path Derek had left on him just moments before.  The kiss at the end of his trail of kisses was gentle until Derek tucked him under his body and took control. 

Derek fumbled with the lube for a moment before coating his fingers.  Stiles’ breath hitch as the coolness touched his entrance, tracing its outline before pushing gradually in to him.  Derek stroked his chest letting his nails stroke lightly over Stiles nipples as he alternated between kissing and biting his navel.

A second finger joined the first stretching and widening Stiles.  One pass rubbed against his prostate causing the younger man to writhe and twist under his hands.  By the time Derek was through Stiles was panting, short quick breaths as he clung to the alpha’s shoulders.  

Through the link Stiles could feel Derek hesitate, his fear of hurting the human a purple curl amid the reds of passion.  “Don’t stop.  Please, Derek.”  The pressure created a slow burn and Stiles tilted his hips upward to ease Derek’s passage.  Derek eased out before sliding fully into Stiles with a long, gradual thrust.

Pushing up against the pressure Stiles let his feelings slip out, spilling from lust swollen lips. “I love you. God help me, I do.”

Derek paused, letting Stiles adjust to his intrusion as well as listening to his heartbeat for the truth of his words.  Smiling he pressed deeper as he leaned down for a kiss.  “I love you, too.”

The overwhelming emotions were just a little too much for Stiles who found himself giggling inappropriately.  “Don’t take this the wrong way but we just sounded like the worst romance novel drivel ever.  Not that I didn’t mean it but…”

Derek silenced him with another kiss and a thrust, working his way deeper. Stiles found his vocal chords were only able to form the words “harder, faster, more, and GOD DEREK!” once a rhythm was found.  He clung to powerful shoulders, fingers biting into the flesh as he met Derek thrust for thrust until he came in a shuttering climax that left him limp on the bed.

Stiles found himself dozing off has Derek cleaned him and tucked the covers around him, snuggling down against the smaller human’s back.  Derek pulled the smaller man closer so that Stiles could rest his head on his chest, fingers slowly stroking his back until he fell asleep. 

In his dreams he was embraced with the sensation of his pack, found himself becoming part of a greater whole.  He understood now how the pack made each member stronger by just belonging.  But the burnt remains of Scott’s link remained, blight on the pack and an aching lesion on his own soul.  

Twisting as dark thoughts entered his slumber Stiles thrashed briefly until Derek pulled him closer, flinging a leg over his hips and pressing him deeper into the mattress.  Derek nuzzled his mate’s side soothing him back into a more restful sleep.  Tomorrow they could work together to finish healing to wounds of his pack.


	16. Chapter 16

It had been two weeks since his claiming and Stiles was falling into a comfortable rhythm with his pack.  On the surface nothing had changed except his sleeping assignment but for Stiles that was the best thing that had ever happened to him. 

Some mornings Stiles woke to the gentle pressure of Derek’s hands caressing his body, working their way lower until Stiles was panting with need.  On those mornings Stiles found himself pleasantly pinned to the mattress as Derek worked him open and filled him to perfection either with slow and gentle lovemaking peppered with caresses and passionate kisses or wild sex that was just left of brutal, a pounding wave of need that had Stiles holding onto the headboard fingers clinched as sweat poured down his body.  

Other mornings Stiles woke to the comfort of Pack as the betas curled around him filling the empty spaces on the bed.  Isaac would drape his body over Stiles tucking his limbs in the space left by Derek’s hold.  Erica inserted herself between the tangled sprawl of legs, her head resting on Stiles’ hip, fingers tickling the soft hairs behind his knee.  Boyd was a heavy weight that sandwiched Derek closer to Stiles embrace.  Only Jackson seemed to avoid these mornings his dark brown smear of an aura never healing, the burn mark of Scott’s betrayal festering just out of Stiles’ knowledge of how to fix. 

On rare mornings Derek was woken to the feeling of his mate working himself down on him, nails scraping against skin that healed almost before the marks had a chance to turn red.  On these mornings Derek would find himself clinging to Stiles’ hips as he rocked his body above him, watching in awe as the expressions of lust, want, need, and love filtered across his open features.  These were the mornings that Derek loved best. 

But there were new challenges in Stiles’ new life as alpha’s mate. His ability to see the pack bonds had not faded with time like Derek had told him that first day as the colors and emotions had threatened to drown him.  Since then they had become clearer, easier to read and Stiles was finding that he could even affect them. He could feel the ties and how they were connected within the pack.  Stiles found himself more and more reaching out to sooth the dark shadows that peppered his pack.  The dark bruises left on Isaac by an abusive father; the putrid green of Erica's fear and loathing of her old bodies sickness, the one she left behind as a wolf; and the grey shadows that lurked in every swirl of Jackson, his constant reminder that he had been unwanted, abandoned by those who should have loved him most. 

Stiles saw all this and more.  He soothed and unknotted what he could; bandaged and watched want he couldn't. All this filtered through his mind as he woke in the middle of the night. 

Two weeks.  

Scott had been on his own for two weeks and Stiles knew, finding within him the small thin string, a sliver that ran from him and disappeared into the distance that Scott was alive but not well.  It was time he changed that.  But morning was a better time to face the impossible, to convince his pack and mate to allow Scott, their very own Judas, back into the pack.      

                                                       (********************) 

Stiles stretched enjoying the warm line of his mate’s body against his own.  One muscular arm was thrown over his waist and a leg curled its way between his own keeping him anchored in position.  Through the link Stiles could feel the beginning rumble as his mate slowly woke to his surroundings.  Derek at rest was dark yellow color, like melted butter on pancakes.  Swirls of hazy red worked their way into the yellow and Derek’s arm slowly started to make lazy circles on Stiles stomach, working lower with each pass. 

Feigning sleep Stiles let himself be pulled onto his back as Derek nuzzled closer, breath huffing against his neck and shoulder.  The bed dipped slightly as Derek leaned on an elbow to look down at the ‘sleeping’ human.  “I guess if you are too tired I should just let you sleep.  Humans can be so fragile.” 

Unable to keep the smile off his face but refusing to open his eyes, Stiles replied, “I’m having this great dream about a sexy alpha.  He was just about to get to the really good stuff.”

“Good stuff?  Hmmm…did he do this?”  Derek dropped a line of kisses from Stiles collar bone down to his nipple before circling it once and nipping it lightly causing Stiles to arch slightly into the touch.  “Or maybe he did this?”  A warm hand slid past the waist band of his shorts to cup him gently, Derek’s thumb running over the tip.  Stiles did his best to bite back the moan.  “Or maybe he did this?” Derek’s dropped his mouth to Stiles’ navel and blew a hard raspberry causing the human to thrash with giggles as his warm breathe tickled him. 

“Oh, God!” Jackson snarled from the doorway.  “Come on, again?  It’s been a week.  Don’t you two have it out of your system yet?  You know I am now traumatized for life. Right?  Life!  I don’t think there is enough therapy in the world that can cover this.” 

Watching Jackson through the pack link, Stiles could see the annoyance in the darkening of Jackson’s usual colors.  He had hoped that with time Jackson would start to heal but the dried blood colors of pain and anger were as prevalent as ever.  His own ribbon of connection, the red wound of a week ago was healing nicely.  It was still tinged with sickly greens of distrust but that was to be expected.  The jagged cauterized hole left by Scott was another matter altogether.  It looked like it was becoming infected, a cancerous spread that darkened the area around it.  Stiles could see how it was working its way up the pack bonds, extending to the rest of the pack.

Something would have to be done.

“Morning,” Isaac called as he pushed past Jackson to get to the bed nudging his way into the curve of Stiles’ arm.  He was followed by a sleep tossed Erica who pulled Boyd behind her like the world’s biggest teddy bear.  Stiles found himself surrounded by pack, their bonds converging like the sun on his body and he easily lost himself as their auras washed over him.  

With the exception of Jackson they all had his pack link healed, glowing within them with just a shade less power than the one that connected to Derek.  His was a healthy pack, a happy pack, but a pack that was still missing a piece that could make them stronger.  Scott.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Stiles could feel it echo down the link to Jackson.  Curious he gave that string a mental tug and was surprised when, in response, Jackson crawled up along the side of the bed to join the pack pile.  The bed gave an ominous creak.

“Derek we need a bigger bed.  Where will we put Scott when we get him back?”  Stiles hadn’t meant to say that, to blurt it out so bluntly.  The pack bonds lit up with shock except for Jackson’s who was tinged suddenly with the bright streamers of hope.  

Derek growled and the pack exited the room in record speed.  “Wow, way to clear the room.”  Derek didn’t reply, rolling out of bed and walking to the bathroom instead.  Stiles could feel him shutting down the bond between them leaving him cold and alone in his own head for the first time in two weeks.  

With the mate bond closed off all his other links faded away.  It was if someone closed the shutters, locked the windows and doors until he was buried away behind layers of darkness, empty, bereft, and isolated.  He wondered, just briefly, if this is what an omega felt. 

Time fluttered strangely in the darkness.  Voices echoes as if down a long murky well.  He tried to listen, knowing that they were surely important but could not find the strength to really care.  Sinking deeper he let himself float in the gloom, hoping it would soon swallow him whole.

“Stiles!” His name was accompanied by a blaze along the pack bonds, forcing them back open.  It was too much and Stiles tried to turn away, tried to bury himself back in the darkness.  “God, I’m barely hearing a heartbeat.  What the hell happened?  Stiles come on love.  Stay with me.”  Another blaze filled him, then another and another until it was a steady stream pouring through him, illuminating him from within.

Stiles whispered to the voices above him, “You locked me out.  Don’t do that.  Please don’t do that again.  I’m sorry, sorry.”  His senses came back and Stiles could feel the pack around him, touching his arms and the back of his head, anywhere they could reach through the frantic embrace of the alpha.

“Never,” Derek promised.  “I had no idea you were so entwined.  If I had any idea I would have never done that to you.  Shhhh. It’s okay now.  I’ll never do that again.”

Lifting him up, Derek carried his mate back to the bed followed by the entire pack.  They curled around him leaving nothing uncovered by touch.  Every breath Stiles took was scented with pack, his skin seemed to soak in their essence, and his mind was once again filled with their presence. 

“I think you left something out when you were giving me the expectations of a mate speech.”  His words slurred as if drunk and his eyes didn’t quite track as he tried to stare down Derek from his prone position.

“I had no idea this could happen.  We will talk when you recover.”

Stiles felt a witty comment on the edge of his tongue but fell asleep before having a chance to utter it.  


	17. Chapter 17

The next twenty four hours passed in a gray tinted haze for Stiles.  Drifting in and out of awareness his mind catching snatches of his surroundings but he knew that Derek was always there, arms wrapped around him as he whispered promises and assurances to which Stiles found it impossible to respond.  

At least one other pack mate was always there as well touching him and keeping the pack bonds strong with their physical and mental presence.  Stiles felt their concern along the pack bonds; see the worry etched in each line of their face.  Derek’s eyes locked on Stiles, burning with his guilt and his lips were a thin line of despair.  Needing to ease the pain he felt in his mate, Stiles tried to speak but his mouth seemed full of cotton, his tongue refusing to form words for him to speak, and the effort sent him back into the haze once again.

The room is dark when he finally wakes for good, his pack curled around him their soft breathing filling the room.  Stiles works his way out of the knot of bodies until he can slip his feet over the edge of the bed.  He is just about to stand when an arm wraps around his waist and pulls him back.

“Let me go Derek.”  His voice is sharper than he means it to be but the pain in his abdomen is insistent.  Derek immediately releases him and Stiles hurries to the bathroom closing the door on the saddened face behind him.

Stiles is startled by his face in the mirror, eyes shadowed and tight and his cheek bones more prominent than he ever remembers them being.  The stress of the bonds being closed between him and Derek had taken a physical, as well as emotional toll on his body. 

He braces his arms on either side of the sink letting his head drop forward surprised that his breath doesn’t leave his body in small frozen clouds because of the ice that filled his chest.  He can feel his pack’s worry and Derek’s need to hold him close to take the lingering pain away, but underneath was the anger left over from Scott’s betrayal that still that still churns within Derek. 

Accepting Stiles back into the pack had been an act of love on Derek’s part, his willingness to forgive and forget is a monument to his feelings for the ex-hunter.  Finding out that Stiles had been unknowing of the plot to lead the hunters to his pack had eased Derek’s conscience about Stiles’ but Scott was another issue altogether.   

Stiles couldn’t blame Derek for being angry with him for wanting to bring his friend back into the fold.   Stiles found himself questioning his own emotional needs to have Scott back.  While he felt that a friendship that stretched back to their childhoods should be an important factor in his decision he couldn’t help but think that Scott had made his own choice to leave and maybe bringing him back would make it worse for everyone.

There is no way that Stiles could ever go back to his life before Derek, to be without the bonds to his mate and pack.  Remembering the cold bleak aloneness from when Derek closed down the link between them, Stiles acknowledges that he would chose the pack over Scott now and hates himself for it.  

Something inside him shreds, a cold pain in his chest forces him to his knees as the sliver that connects him to a distant Scott grows thinner until it is just a shimmer of light.  Black dots mar his eyesight and his heart beats loudly in his ears as he feels the diminishing bond between himself and Scott.  It seems to struggle on the other end as if Scott is reaching out, clinging to Stiles even as he tries to find the strength to sever it completely.  

The awareness of something wet on his lip reaches him just before he tastes copper on his lips with his tongue.  Stiles touches his face and his hands come away tipped in blood.  There is a moment where he finds himself wondering where the blood is from before sliding the rest of the way to the floor, the bathroom tile cool against his cheek.

The door slams inward, the frame partially ripped from the wall as Derek, eyes blazing red, crashed into the small room.  The rest of the betas fill the space behind him as Derek drops to the floor next to Stiles and gathers him to his chest.  Hands reach out to touch him as a wet cloth is pressed gently to his bleeding nose.  Stiles can feel the pack pushing their strength and love down the links making him realize that his decision to choose the pack was the right one.  _This_ was family.  _This_ was home.

Stiles’ head pounds as the link between him and Scott seems to thrash in its death throes.  His pack whines, voices high and tight, as he fights to make the final cut.  “Stop it Stiles.  Whatever you are doing you need to stop it _now_.”  

“Can’t have you both,” Stiles whimpers against Derek’s shoulder.  “Choosing you.”

“The hell?”  Derek looks at his pack in confusion and fear as he scoops Stiles into his arms and carries him back to the bed.  They all return his look of sheer terror at the thought of losing Stiles because everyone can sense through the bonds that he is weakening.  “Stiles what are you talking about?”

There is no answer from the human who is hanging limply from Derek’s arms.  “Call Deacon,” Derek commands and all the betas, except for Jackson jump to obey.  

The blond wolf instead crawls up the bed and lies on the opposite side of Stiles letting his body press along the side of his Alpha’s mate.  Derek ignores him in favor of concentrating on his bond, sending energy and love along the link and despairing at the weakness of Stiles’ response.  

“What did he mean by choosing me?”  Derek’s voice is tight and pain filled.  He wraps one arm around the back of his mate to keep his head tucked to his chest while the other hand is left free to roam, placing gentle caresses along Stiles’ cheek and shoulder, running down across his chest to rest over his heart as if to confirm with touch it continues to beat.

“He thinks it’s either you or Scott because we won’t allow him to love both.”  Jackson keeps his eyes low as he fights with his own conflicting emotions involving Scott.  

“He must think I closed the mate bond between us to punish him because I was angry at him for wanting Scott back.  God, he must hate me.”

“Didn’t you?  Didn’t you shut him out because you were angry at him for wanting Scott back?”

Growling Derek half lunged at his beta, his forward motion stopped by the limp weight of his mate.  “I shut him out because I didn’t want him to see the rage and hate I feel.  Damn Scott for bringing out the worst in me.”

Keeping his eyes low and submissive Jackson whispered, “Don’t you think that pain is something your mate would want to share?  Pain shared is halved.”

The bed creaked as Derek shifted his weight pulling Stiles so that he rested between his legs with his head tucked under the Alpha’s chin. “Who hit you with the wisdom stick?”

“Your mate is contagious.”

Derek hummed in agreement as Deacon entered the room with his bags and powders.  “It’s good to see you bringing a human into your pack.  A strong pack needs the stability and awareness brought by a human’s presence but I would hope that you would be more careful of their inherent fragileness in the future.” 

Derek dropped his head at the gentle chastisement.  “He’s is entwined with the pack more closely than I thought possible.  I blocked our link in anger earlier and he almost stopped breathing.  A few minutes ago he got out of bed to do something with the bonds and passed out in the bathroom.”

Deacon calmly took Stiles blood pressure, listened to his heart and breathing like he was a normal doctor making a house call until he pulled out a small pouch containing a gray powder and spread it across Stiles’ chest.  The powder shimmered and branched into colorful lines of different thicknesses spanning from his heart outward.  

Taking in a surprised hiss of breath, Deacon asked.  “Where did you find him?”

“He’s an ex-hunter who ended up stranded in town because he was out of money and luck.  I stumbled upon him and couldn’t let him go.”

“I’m not surprised,” Deacon responded absently, his fingers tracing the colorful explosion on Stiles’ chest.  “These lines are his bonds to you and your pack.  I have never seen a bonding this strong with a human.  What caused this episode?”

“I was angry and hurt.  I could feel his need for me to forgive his friend.  Scott betrayed us, tried to bring death to my door and Stiles just wants me to forgive him.  It brings to many memories that I didn’t want to feel and I didn’t want Stiles to see so I blocked him, shut down our link but I had no idea we were that tightly woven.  I would have never done that had I know.  I would never purposely hurt Stiles.”

“Hmmmmm.  That would explain the weakness but not the rest.”  Deacon reached out and traced the honey yellow branch across Stiles’ chest.  It was so wide it almost covered his whole chest, a vibrant background for the rest of the colors.  Derek shivered and twitched as soon as Deacon came in contact with the yellow branch.  “Interesting.”

Deacon brushes the electric blue line pulling the grains with his finger as if tugging on a string.  A startled Isaac stumbles into the room eyes wide with his unease.  Erica and Boyd follow Isaac into the room moving across to the side of the bed to watch as Deacon plays with the ribbons of color that coat Stiles’ chest.  They both react in unison as Deacon touches a green, the color of ancient woods, and a dark blue ribbon that seem to twine around each other.

Boyd growls low in his throat and steps forward threateningly as Deacon gives an experimental tug to see if the two ribbons will separate.  “Don’t.”  Boyd warns as his claws slip past human skin and fangs fill his mouth.  With a small smile of apology, Deacon moved to touch the dusky purple, watching as Jackson’s skin quivered in response.

“I have never heard of a bonding this strong.  Not even among born wolves is this type of bonding seen.”

“I’ve known since the moment I laid eyes on him in the supermarket that Stiles was special.  Now tell me why he collapsed in the bathroom and why I can’t wake him up.”

“Look.  See this line.”  Deacon pointed to a silver line that could barely be made out, being made of just a single grain of the fine powder in a weaving, twisting row.  “It’s older than the rest.  It has been tested and weakened but the bond is still strong because there is real emotion behind it.  This is a bond to family and by the looks of it Stiles tried to sever it today.”  Deacon plucked it gently and Jackson lurched forward.

“God!  He said something about choosing.”  Jackson whined, eyes blazing.  “He’s trying to destroy his pack bond with Scott.”

Deacon watched as Derek pulled Stiles closer pressing his nose into the curve of his neck as he held the limp body carefully.  “Ones such as your mate are not meant to tear the bonds of pack, they are meant to make them stronger, to forge a pack into something more than betas and alphas.  You have managed to find a rare gift Derek.  I hope for your sake that you can mend the damage you have created. 

“I’ll fix it.”  Derek promised tightening his grip on his mate.  “Whatever it takes.”  Jackson smiled for the first time in the last two weeks.  A tension left his body that he didn’t even know he had.  Closing his eyes he let his blond head rest against the lower part of Stiles’ chest where the silver thread of a bond wove its way across the human’s chest.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it has been so long since my last update. Want to thank my beta for putting up with me and making me stick to one tense. I hope you all keep reading and I won't wait so long for the next update.


	18. Chapter 18

It’s early the next morning, the sun not even a hint on the horizon when Stiles awakes again.  He lies amidst the warmth of pack for a few moments savoring the feeling of belonging.  When he closes his eyes he can see the connections between his pack, each wolf represented by a different color in his mind, a symphony of hues with one lone sour note.  A thin silver thread barely visible to Stiles seemed to vibrate with pain and emptiness, calling out to him as a friend and brother.

His link to Scott is still unbroken but weakened and failing.  Tracing the silver thread Stiles can catch snippets of emotions rolling down the bond.  Despair and loneliness are the most prevalent but beneath it all lays a deep remorse that brings tears to Stiles’ eyes.

Wiping the tears from his cheeks, he rouses from an easy half sleep to full alertness.  Alerted by the smell of his tears the pack is instantly vigilant; five pairs of glowing eyes staring at him in the dark.  Stiles feels a tingle of fear at the sight, his hind brain registering the presences of predators but his momentary fear is soothed by the bonds as each wolf sends reassurances down the link toward him.

 “Hey guys.”  Stiles smiles weakly.  Any response by the pack is interrupted by his stomach which lets out a loud rumble, causing Isaac and Erica to giggle.  

“How about some cinnamon rolls with breakfast this morning?” asks Isaac as he bounds out of the bed followed by the rest of the betas.  Stiles, still weak from the events of the past day, allows himself to be pulled closer into Derek’s warmth.

Derek drops kisses along the crown on Stiles’ head as his fingers rub slow circles on his back.  He can tell the moment Stiles remembers the events of the past couple of days by the subtle stiffening of his body.  Derek responds by pulling his mate even closer, pushing how much he loves him down the link, and capturing his lips in a soft but demanding kiss.  

“We need to talk.”

“I know.  Look, I’m sorry about the whole Scott thing.  I don’t know what I was thinking but I want you to know that I’m part of your pack now and I…”  Derek stops the flow of words with another kiss, this one not so gentle.

“Shhh.  I’m the one who needs to apologies.  I locked you out of our mate bond in anger not even thinking about how you would react.  I made you feel that you needed to sever a bond that was such a strong part of you that your body tried to shut down to keep it from happening.  I’m your mate and it’s my job to protect you and all I’ve done is cause you harm these last two days.”

“It shouldn’t mean so much to me, this bond between Scott and I.  How many times has he let me down?”  The breath caught in Stiles’ throat, closing off the air for a second as he fought with his conflicting emotions, trying to make his alpha understand.  “I’m not forgiving him.  I don’t.  He betrayed the pack.  He betrayed you after all that you did for us.  You took us in when no one else would.  And he betrayed me.”

Derek held any opinions he had to himself, sending instead his love and trust down the mate’s link between them.  “I know I should just close down this link between us, let Scott lie in the bed he made but I just can’t.  It would almost be as bad as losing you.”  Closing his eyes Stiles leaned deeper into Derek’s embrace, allowing his mate’s talented fingers to find knots along his shoulders and sooth them away.

“I never thought that you would have a link to Scott.”  Derek pressed his nose into the crease of Stiles’ shoulder, breathing in the scent of his mate.  “The bond should have been destroyed when I cast him out of the pack.  We could all feel the bond sever between the pack and Scott.  It’s not an easy thing that I did, the dissolving of a pack bond, but his betrayal forced my hand.”

“He’s not linked to the pack.  He’s linked to me.  You said something once about how he managed to keep it together without a pack, well I was his pack.  He forged that pack bond with me and even though he is no longer your pack he is still part of mine.  God, Derek, I’m not whole without him.”

“Then we will get him back.”  

Derek followed Stiles down the stairs and into the kitchen, his larger bulk seeming to loom protectively over his slender mate.  Relieved smiles met his arrival and Stiles found himself being gently shoved into his chair as piles of food were set upon the table.  Even Jackson seemed to glower less in his direction.

Eating in silence, only half listening to the forced banter of the worried pack, Stiles let his lip curl with humor at the amount of bacon that was being secreted onto his plate.  Breaking each piece in half, Stiles ate one and placed the other onto Derek’s plate. The happy rumble and the warmth through the mate bond let him know that he had handled the bacon issue properly.  Not that he had anything against bacon but the way the pack kept giving it to him, Stiles was going to be pig shaped by the time they finished feeding him. 

Chasing the last bit of egg around his plate with his fork, Stiles tries to figure out how to deal with the tension he could feel from the pack.  Nudging the bonds, he analyzes the responses.  Derek’s honey yellow color is muted with resignation, Boyd and Erica both seem to shiver with anxiety down the link, and Jackson, Stiles doesn’t even need his link to Jackson to see apprehension about the Scott issue.  Jackson, finished shredding three linen napkins, has started to pick away at the plastic covered table cloth.

“I can feel him.  You said this link with the pack would get weaker but it hasn’t.  It gets stronger every day and I have been feeling Scott for almost a week now. He’s alive and doing okay right now but…”  Stiles paused, lacking the words to convey the unease he could feel down the link to Scott.  Glancing at Derek, he let his concern show in both his face and through the link.  “He’s slipping.  He won’t be able to hold it together much longer on his own.”

“So we’ll go get him.”  Stiles was surprised that it was Jackson that brought it up.  But once he thought about it, checked the range of emotions that leaked down the bond, he wondered how he could have ever missed it.  “Can you use the pack bonds to track him?”

“I can tell roughly which direction he’s in but not specific locations.  He’s northeast right now but far, at least a couple of days away.”

“So we pack your jeep, find his ass so I can chew it out, drag him back so Derek can kick the shit out of him and we can go back to being a pack.”  Stiles had a few concerns about Jackson’s plan but on the whole he tended to agree.

Derek’s low growl was anything but an agreement on the alpha’s part.  “I am not letting you run off across the country trying to track Scott by a vague directional feeling you get through a pack bond you don’t know how to control.”

“You said we would get him back.”  Stiles heard the faint whine in his voice and clamped down on his inner spoiled teenager.

“We will get him back.  I got you two back before.  I just need to send an alert out to the rest of the packs to keep an eye out for him.”

“Last time you had the packs keep an eye out for us Scott was practically gutted,” Stiles growled echoed by a low grumble from Jackson.  At the flash of alpha red Jackson quickly backed down but Stiles remained firm.  “I don’t want him hurt.”

“Neither do I.”  Jackson whined at the blatant lie in that statement.  “I don’t what him irreversibility harmed.”  Derek amended.  Sighing at the sight of Stiles and Jackson, Derek pulled his mate in close to rest their foreheads together.  “Let me try this okay?  If it doesn’t work we can reevaluate Jackson’s ‘drag his furry ass back here for me to bite off’ plan.”

Stiles smiled briefly at Derek’s attempt to sooth him with humor.  He could feel down the link how much his mate was trying.  Following Derek into his study Stiles watched as he typed up a nation-wide pack memo and sent it to every alpha in the United States

“I’m still amazed at how connected the packs are.  We – I mean _they_ \- always thought that werewolves were just feral packs of half men living on the edges of society.”

“Baying at the moon and eating raw rabbits?”  Derek turned, a single eyebrow raised as he observed his blushing mate with a slightly amused smile.  “Funny how it was the hunters who were living on the outskirts of society, communes full of guns, children homeschooled and brainwashed to follow the code created by a single charismatic leader.” 

“Sorry.”  Stiles hated how his mouth said things without his brain’s permission.  He could still remember how shocked the hunters where we they discovered that a good majority of the werewolf population held high ranking jobs in the community from police officers to military, three even serving to protect the president.  It had been blow to both moral and their feeling of superiority.  

Derek shrugged off the apology and pulled Stiles into his embrace lips quickly capturing his lower lips in a soft nip.  “What did you tell them?  I would hate for another pack to rip him up again.”

“I didn’t tell them anything but that I was looking for a missing member of my pack.  If anyone asks I’ll tell them that he made a mistake and ran out of fear but his is still pack, still _mine_ and I want him back safely.”

Stiles let himself lean against Derek breathing in his scent.  “Thank you.  I know how much this is costing you: letting go of the hate and betrayal you feel.”  

Cupping Derek’s face Stiles moved closer and kissed him with all the emotion that was bottled inside of him; all the love and gratitude he felt. The mate bond reacted almost immediately, blazing to life so that Stiles could feel the way Derek responded, the sudden fullness and heat, the rising lust that made his wolf push against the bindings that kept it covered.  Stiles sent a mental nudge toward Derek’s wolf as if waving his fingers at it.

“Stiles,” Derek rumbled, a small growl lengthening the last part of his name letting him know that the wolf had come out to play.  Derek lifted Stiles up and placed him on the desk without breaking the kiss and began to pull at his clothing. 

Stiles helped by lifting his arms and hips, making it easier for his alpha to slip off the shirt and pants from his lean body.  He tried to unbutton Derek’s shirt but gave up with a laugh when the wolf simply ripped the clothing from his own body. 

Stiles worried briefly about the lack of lube in the study but that thought vanished the moment Derek dropped to his knees.  Between the wolf’s talented fingers and tongue Stiles was more than ready by the time he felt Derek nudging his way into his tight passage.  

Pens and papers went tumbling to the ground and Stiles had just enough awareness of his surroundings to catch the laptop before it followed its less technically advanced brethren down to the floor below.  

The desk raised Stiles up so that Derek had the perfect angle to thrust, wringing gasps and moans with each plunge of his hips.  It’s a little rough but Stiles loved every sweaty moment of it; ending up in the end collapsed on the desk, arms and legs akimbo, sated and relaxed.

“I hope you don’t expect me to move anytime soon.”

“Do you want me to carry you upstairs and tuck you in bed?”

Stiles hummed happily at the idea but finds himself letting out a surprised squawk as Derek picked him up and tossed him over his shoulder.  Slapping his mate’s butt as he carried him up the stairs, Stiles grumbled, “You could have let me get some pants on first.”

Erica hoots and cat calls while Jackson yells that somebody better be ready to pay for his therapy.  Stiles can hear Isaac chuckle about them needing to get some more sun because “that’s a lot of white.” 

Stiles laughs at Derek’s antics but keeps a tight lid on his plans.  Scott won’t last much longer and no other pack will get to him first.  He hates keeping things from his mate, knowing that their relationship is still on shaky ground, but this is Scott and Stiles would not let his brother down. 


	19. Back on the Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, sorry, sorry. I know it has been FOREVER since I updated this. I'd like to thank all of you that sent encouraging emails, pleading emails, and even the two that asked if I was dead....yeah...uh...thanks :# You are the reason that I got my act back together and updated. Ya'll are the BEST!

The flare of pain slammed into his chest making his lungs ache for oxygen and his heart beat franticly against the confines of his chest.  The link he shared with the pack blazed with agony forcing him from a peaceful slumber to wide awake and gasping for breath in mere moments. He hunched over his knees, spots of light flashing behind his eyelids, desperately trying to get air into his lungs.

“Stiles?  God, Stiles talk to me.  Lay back and take a deep breath.  I need you to look at me.  Now take another.  In and out, that’s good Stiles, in and out.”  Stiles locked his eyes with Derek’s, trying to focus on his voice and the way his hands felt so warm against his cold skin but the pain tugged him down ward, making everything hazy and grey.

Inside the bonds he could see the silver thread thinning, shearing away until it was just a single ebbing fiber stretching taunt before it broke.  Stiles reached for it, trying desperately to clutch at its fraying ends but he knew it wouldn’t be enough, he wasn’t enough.  

A dark yellow, warm and protecting, burst into light as it flowed under and around the floundering silver thread.  It forced open the blackened scars that lay in shadow, sending out grey tendrils that quickly brightened as they attached to the thread.

Other ribbons of light joined in, each adding their own unique color and strength:  a dark blue of unwavering loyalty, a deep forest green full of love and life, an electric blue that bubbled with joy, and finally a dusky purple that deepened into a rich indigo as soon as it touched the silver thread.  

Together they strengthened it until it was no longer verging on breaking off completely.  It was far from whole; laying patched and reinforced but still attached and now anchored by the regrowth of the rest of the pack bonds.

Stiles blinked open his eyes to find the entire pack surrounding him on the bed their hands coasting up and down his chest and upper legs.  He felt better than he had in a long time.  He was like a puzzle with the last,  long lost piece, finally found and placed in its proper spot.  He was complete.

“I’ve got to go find Scott.   He needs me.”

                                    ************************************

From the looks on the betas faces, you would have thought that Derek and Stiles were having a screaming match instead of a calm discussion.  They sat around the dinner table like prey, still and hoping not to be noticed, while their eyes tracked their alpha’s every move with too white stares.

“I can’t wait another week.  You felt it as well though the link.  Something bad happened to Scott and he needs help.  We bought him some extra time with all that pack mumbo-jumbo but we don’t know how long that will last.  I’m not leaving him out on his own any longer than I have too.”

“Damn it Stiles, you need to be reasonable about this.  I’m not telling you NOT to go but you need to wait a couple of more days.  Out of the last four days, I’ve almost lost you three times.”  At Stiles’ scoff Derek growled and pulled his mates chair closer.  “You turned blue last night.  I could barely hear your heartbeat and you didn’t respond at all until the whole pack was touching you and even then it took forty-five minutes before you answered any of my questions.  You need to recover before I let you go traipsing across the country.”

“Am I just another beta in this pack?  Expected to blindly follow your orders?  Or am I your mate, the person who is supposed to stand by your side as an equal?”  Stiles wanted to pull at his hair he was so angry.  “Do you think I am so weak that I can’t go off on my own?  I took care of myself and Scott for a year without any help and I am more than capable of finding him and dragging his ass back here.”

“I have no doubt in your ability Stiles.  Finding Scott and bringing him back will help you get stronger in the long run but right now, at this very moment, you need to rest.  Needing to heal is not a weakness.”

Stiles sputtered with anger, words tripping over each other in their need to spew out and let his arrogant mate know just how much he hated being treated like the weak link in their pack, someone that needed to be coddled.  Derek just raised an eyebrow as Stiles’ mouth opened and closed before pushing back his chair and leaving the dinner table, effectively ending the argument.

“Using your eyebrows against me is unfair,” Stiles growled to Derek’s retreating back.  He glared at the betas who quickly wiped all traces of a smile off their faces before bolting for the nearest exit, leaving Stiles with a pile of dishes.  “Great!  You think I’m too weak to go after Scott but you’ll leave a shit load of dishes for me.  Some mate you are!”

Eyeing the pile of dishes Stiles snorted and pushed back his chair.  He filled the large sink with hot water and soap while pushing his disappointment down the pack bonds mixed with a little “woe is me, I’m so tired”.  The sink was half way filled when Isaac ducked back into the kitchen and started to clear the table.  Soon after that Erica and Boyd were scraping the plates and hand washing them before handing them to Stiles to dry.

“Please!  I can’t believe you guys fell for that guilt trip he sent us.  Stiles, you can buy me that ticket but I’m not getting on the boat.  You’re not guilt tripping me into washing dishes.”  Jackson dropped into the nearest chair, leaning back and resting his feet on the corner of the table.

“I never said I was.”  Stiles answered quietly drying the next dish and placing it in a neat stack on the counter.  Jackson sighed before moving to stand behind Stiles, watching him dry dishes from over his shoulder. 

“You could just order us to do it.  As the alpha’s mate you have the right.”

Stiles nudged Jackson with his hip and smiled back at him.  “I think one overly bossy person in the house is enough, don’t you?”

Derek huffed from the doorway.  “I’m not bossy.  I’m the alpha.”  He walked over and pulled Stiles into a hug.  “I just don’t want you trying to run off to save him before you’re completely healed.”  Picking up a rag he helped Stiles dry the dishes.  

Stiles had an evil “brahahaha” moment before promising himself he would only use his awesome pack manipulating skills for good…well… after he got Scott back that is.

                                    ********************************

The next morning started out with the normal rhythm.  Stiles woke with the pack wrapped around him.  Derek warm breath tickled the back of his neck and Isaac’s head rested on the waistband of his boxers.  Erica was sleeping on top of Boyd while Jackson sat in a chair with his feet propped on the bed staring at Stiles as if willing him to wake up.  

As soon as Stiles met his eyes, Jackson nodded toward the door and led the way down the stairs.  Untangling himself from his pack, Stiles followed Jackson down to the kitchen.

“You may have the rest of them fooled but I know you’re up to something.  You’re going after Scott.”  Jackson whispered as he ran water for the coffee pot and rattled pans, masking the sound of their conversation from the pack upstairs.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Jackson.  I told Derek I would stay until he thought I was better, give his plan a chance to work before I tried to find him on my own.”

Jackson’s face contorted as he shot Stiles a look of disbelief.  “I don’t know how you managed to pull the wool over Derek’s eyes with that load of shit but I’m not falling for it.”

Stiles lifted a single shoulder in a causal shrug.  “Think whatever you want, Jacks.  I’m going back to bed.  Since you’re cooking, make those chocolate chip pancakes this morning.”  Stiles kept a tight rein on his emotions on the way back up the stairs wondering how Jackson had managed to see through him so deeply.  He couldn’t let Derek find out.  His mate would do everything in his power to stop him but Stiles knew, deep down, that Scott didn’t have much more time.  Every second was precious now and he had to make every one count.

The rest of the pack was up by the time he climbed the stairs.  Derek smiled at him from beneath the tumbled spread of betas.  “You’re up early.”

“Just convincing Jacks to make chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast.  He’s the only one of you that can get the chip to batter ratio correct.”

Isaac rolled, misjudged the edge of the bed, and toppled to the floor at Stiles’ feet.  He peered up at Stiles with a sleepy, upside-down grin.  “He adds the whole back of chips.  There’s barely enough batter to hold the chocolate together.”

“I know.  It’s perfect.”  With chuckles and smiles the pack headed off to complete they morning routines.  Stiles kept a tight lid on the pack bonds trying to send ‘normal’ feelings down the link, keeping his scheming and guilt buried deep.

He followed Derek into the bathroom and watched as his mate readied himself for the day.  “What are our plans today?”  Stiles asked in his most casual voice.

“Our plans are to do a quick perimeter run and check on the northern border for the feral hogs that have been wandering near town.  They’ve gotten too close to some of the suburbs and I don’t want anyone getting gored.  Hogs can be nasty.  Afterwards we’ll do a little training and be back for a late lunch.”

Stiles purposely pushed excitement down the link feeling like an ass for manipulating his mate but knowing that today could be his best chance at getting away to search for Scott before it was too late.  “That sounds great.  I could use some practice with my aim and I won’t feel bad shooting a couple of feral hogs.”

Derek’s face went completely neutral and he turned to face Stiles while taking a deep calming breath.  “You are staying here.  I know you’re going to get mad at me and tell me I’m coddling you or whatever other thing you can think of but there’s simply no reason for you to be reckless when you’re not at one hundred percent. I’m not backing down on this.  I’d rather you be mad at me for the next month than to put yourself in danger.  You need to recover from WHATEVER is going on with the pack bonds and as your alpha I’m telling you that...,” Derek’s eyes flashed red and his voice deepened winding around Stiles’ mate bond and pushing. “You’re not going out to the forest with us today.”

Stiles staggered back a pace with the force of Derek’s alpha voice.  He realized how lucky he was that Derek chose those words.  If he had told Stiles to stay in the house he wouldn’t be able to break through to leave.  He never understood until just that second how powerful an alpha’s command was over his betas.

He didn’t even have to fake the shock on his face.  Derek had never used his alpha voice against him.  Narrowing his eyes at his mate while pushing down the guilt he felt at using Derek’s feeling against him, Stiles turned on his heel and marched out of the bathroom.

Breakfast was a silent affair.  Stiles didn’t push away the comforting hand that Derek placed on his knee or refuse the pile of bacon that was placed on his plate but he didn’t speak or look in his mate’s direction.  Once finished the pack quickly took off, not wanting to stay an extra second in the uncomfortable silence between the two.  Derek was the last to leave, pressing a quick kiss to Stiles' cheek before loping off after his pack.

Stiles waited until the pack was out of sight and then counted an extra five minutes in his head just to be sure before rushing upstairs and throwing his duffle together.  He grabbed a few hundred from the emergency pack fund and his keys.  Pausing at the door he contemplated leaving a note but realized it was pointless.  He knew that Derek would know exactly what he had done the moment the pack returned for lunch.   

The jeep sputtered a few times before roaring to life.  Gravel crunched under his tires as he sped as fast as he dared down the twisty driveway toward the main road. There was one last turn left before the straight away to the street and Stiles was ready to really hit the gas pedal when Jackson stepped out onto the road ahead of him. 

The brakes locked and the jeep fish tailed back and forth kicking up leaves and dust before stopping mere feet from where Jackson stood.  Stiles didn’t even bother to roll down his window.  He was so mad that he knew he could scream loud enough for the blond to hear him even without his werewolf senses.

“Are you fucking out of your mind?  I could have run you over and while that most likely wouldn’t have killed your stupid ass it would have dinted my jeep and torn up my suspension.”

Stiles tried to calm down as Jackson walked slowly to the side of the jeep and let himself in.  “I’m going with you.”

“No, you’re not.”  Stiles pushes the command through the pack link until Jackson let out a high pitched whine and struggled not to open the door.

“Damn it Stiles, stop it.  Either I’m coming with you or I’m lying down in the middle of the road and howling for Derek.”  Snarling, Stiles slammed his palms against the steering wheel.  Jackson waited until he finished before smiling smugly at the red faced human.  “So, am I coming with you or not?”

“Fine, you giant ass.  Come with me.”  Jackson hopped out of the jeep and grabbed his pack from behind the tree and jumped back into his seat before Stiles even had time to react.  “How did you know?”

“I’m surprised the whole pack didn’t know.  You’re not that sneaky.”

With a sigh Stiles put the jeep and drive and pushed the gas pedal down as far as he dared.  “You know Derek is going to kill us both.”

“Nah,” Jackson smiled wide and happy.  “He’ll growl and snarl and threaten to tear off a piece of my ass but he won’t kill me since I selflessly decided to accompany you and try to keep you safe on your non-alpha approved trip.  You, on the other hand, will get to have angry sex for the week after he catches us and create a pack wide need for therapy.”

Stiles couldn’t help but laugh even with the road ahead a complete unknown, just a vague direction and a deep need to reach Scott soon.  The half-moon glinted dimly in the morning sky as the thin sliver of a bond tugged softly at him again. Stiles did his best to send reassurance back down the think link, needing Scott to hold on a little longer until he could bring him back home.

 

 

 

 


	20. It's Not the Hilton

Stiles’ phone rang and vibrated almost constantly for thirty minutes while the two of them ignored it the best they could as they flew down the highway heading north following Stiles’ vague directions gathered by the thinning silver cord that linked him to Scott. 

Jackson kept glancing out of the corner of his eye every time the phone rang.  Stiles could feel the tension building in his shoulders.  “I’m not answering it.  He knows I’m fine and all he will do if I pick up is yell at me and growl that I need to come back, which I’m not.  Trust me I’m getting all of it though the mating bond.”

Jackson shrugged but relaxed against the seat, the harsh angle of his shoulders slowly easing.  They drove down the road, the radio the only sound except for their breathing and the soft burr sound of the tires on the asphalt.  It took them both a few minutes to realize that Stiles’ phone had stopped ringing. 

After about five minutes of silence Jackson spoke.  “I’m sure he’s not giving up that easy.  He might have broken his phone.  He tends to start pressing with his claws when he’s frustrated and that’s never good for the screen.”  Stiles huffed out a chuckle which was broken by the sound of Jackson’s phone ringing.  Neither of them needed to glance at the screen to know who was calling.

“You could always put it on silence.”  Jackson rolled his eyes to look at his traveling companion.

“You could have too.”  Stiles smirked at Jackson’s response and turned the radio up louder to block the sound.  Jackson pushed the phone deeper into his pocket and Stiles could tell he was doing his best to listen to the music instead of the call from his alpha. 

“You’re not what I expected.  The more I get to know you, the more I’m surprised.”

Jackson didn’t turn his head or open his eyes, just made an agreeing sound.  Stiles gave the purple cord a little tug causing the wolf to startle.  “You’re not half the asshole I thought you were.”

Mock growling, Jackson slid deeper into the seat and continued to ignore, or pretend to ignore, the constant ringing of his phone.

Trying to pull Jackson’s mind off leaving the pack, Stiles’ started singing slightly off key to help block the muffled ring of the phone.  Jackson edged slightly away from Stiles as he belted out the chorus of ‘Umbrella’ wearing a moue of distaste on his perfect lips but he couldn’t keep up the act for long.  As soon as ‘It’s Raining Men’ came on, Stiles almost driving off the road as he gyrated along with his singing, Jackson couldn’t help but crack a smile. 

He didn’t sing but Stiles would swear to his dying day that he saw him lip syncing the words of the chorus.

                                    *************************************

Stiles could feel the silver cord tugging at him, dragging his attention away from his needed sleep begging him to pay attention to it.  He sent a probe along its thin line to check on Scott.  His best friend was sleeping fitfully, tossing as nightmares plagued him and his loneliness overwhelmed him.  Stiles pushed comfort and reassurance down the line and was rewarded with what could only be described as a sleepy mental hug.

Stiles had become better at reading emotions through the bonds during the last two days on the road with Jackson.  At first he could only feel the hot red rages of Derek’s anger that tinted his usual warm butter yellow ribbon to a bloody orange color.  He spent half the first day trying to sooth it back closer to its normal color.  It was only then that he could see the worry that darkened the other bonds in his pack.  He did his best to sooth them all but didn’t turn from his task.

“The bond’s getting stronger.”  Jackson mumbled from under the pile of pillows.  Stiles could tell the beta was still mostly asleep, his subconscious closer to the surface than usual.  “I can feel it whenever you mess with his bond, like tickling in my bones.”  The other bed creaked softly before Stiles’ bed dipped and Jackson crawled under the covers beside him, curling around his body and offering comfort and warmth.  Stiles struggled to keep the shock of Jackson’s actions show in the tension of his body, trying to keep relaxed and open so as not to startle Jackson back to his normal, king of the jerks, behavior. 

“Why is it affecting me more than the rest of the pack?  None of the others hurt so much when Derek severed his pack bond and I was practically sick with it.  You weren’t there, so you couldn’t know, but it was like my insides had been shredded with fire and ice.  I couldn’t breathe at first.  And then there was just this feeling of darkness and it was his entire fault.  And I don’t know why I even care.  He betrayed all of us and yet, aside from you, I’m the only one really willing to forgive him and bring him back.”

Stiles rolled on his back and Jackson followed him, curling against his chest.  This level of openness was unheard of from Jackson and Stiles was waiting for the other shoe to drop, or more likely, Jackson come to his senses and snarl and rage at him. 

“I’ve wondered about that.  You did attack him and threaten him right before we left Beacon Hills. That’s why we left.  I was afraid that the pack was going to kill him.”

Jackson whined, high pitched and pained until Stiles soothed him by scrapping his nails against his scalp through his short hair.  “That wasn’t my finest hour.  I don’t know how to explain it, I can’t justify my actions but there was just so much pain and I thought that if I drove him out, made you both leave, it all stop.”

“Did it?”

“No, it made it worse and then I just felt numb.”  Jackson’s arms tightened and he maneuvered Stiles until his was lying on his side with his back pressed to Jackson’s chest, once more the little spoon.  “And then you came back without him.  My whole body was pins and needles, like before I was a wolf and my leg went to sleep.  It was painful at first but then the tingles faded and it was like I could feel again.  You have no idea how much you coming back helped everyone.  I hadn’t realized how numb I was until then.”

“I don’t know why it’s affecting you more than the rest of pack, Jackson, but I’m glad you came along.” 

Jackson snorted against his back.  “That’s a given.  I’m just awesome that way.”  Stiles rolled his eyes knowing that the wolf couldn’t see them but remained silent and still until the beta drifted off.

                                    ************************************

He could feel that they were getting closer to Scott by the way the silver bond grew beneath his chest.  In some it was even stronger than the bonds he had with the rest of the pack, except for Derek’s, but it didn’t have the clarity he could feel with his betas.  Even now with so much distance separating him from his pack he could feel the betas emotions; mostly worry, frustration, and even something that felt like deceit which didn’t make any sense.

Stiles shook away those thoughts and concentrated on Scott’s link.  According to the GPS on the dash, which Jackson had insisted on buying after the first day, the only town for the next hundred miles off this two lane stretch of highway was Warner Valley.

“I think this might be it.” Stiles said waking Jackson who had curled up against the window to sleep.  They crested a small rise and then the road dropped down in a gentle sloop to the long valley floor.  The small town was nestled half way through the valley next to a small lake.  In the growing dusk, light twinkling in the distance, it looked quite charming.

A shudder ran through Stiles as he glanced over the town before it disappeared from sight with the turning of the road.  “Don’t tell me. You have a bad feeling about this, don’t you?”  Jackson reached over and rested his hand on Stiles’ shoulder.  “What are you picking up?”

“I don’t know but Scott’s angry, worried, and afraid.”  They both rode in silence until they passed the ‘Warner Valley:  Population 293’ sign and entered the small town square.  I small, thin three story building with a half lit “Warner Valley Hotel’ sign was just off the main street though town. 

Parking in the mostly deserted street, Stiles waited in the car while Jackson checked for current pack information on his laptop.  “There’s a pack that claims this as part of their territory.  The main roads and the town proper are considered neutral but I’ll need to negotiate safe passage if we are going to stay from more than one night or look outside the town’s limits for Scott

Stiles nodded and grabbed the bags, following Jackson through the front door.  The frame was warped and made a screeching noise when forced open.  It was better than a bell Stiles guessed as a startled teen looked up from his homework as they entered the lobby. 

Jackson didn’t hide his impatience well as the teen struggled with the computer, inputting their card information by hand, hen pecking slowly at the keyboard.  “Sorry, sorry.”  He repeated in a flustered voice.  “I’ve never been here when someone has checked in before.”

Rolling his eyes, Jackson mouthed ‘wonderful’ at Stiles before taking the key, an actual metal key, from the nervous fingers of the boy.  Scooping up the bags, Jackson made a gallant arm gesture indicating that Stiles should go first.  The stairs creaked under their weight but the brass hand rail was smooth under their hands as they climbed the stairs to the third floor.

The key turned with a heavy click in the ornate lock.  Pushing the door open Stiles was pleasantly surprised at the room.  It was large, furnished with two full sized beds and a couple of small wooden chairs tucked next to a small table in the corner of the room.  Jackson checked the bathroom and made a 'tisking' sound at the dated shower and tub but all and all it was spacious and clean. 

Tossing the key on the bedside table, Stiles grabbed his kit and headed into the bathroom to brush his teeth and get ready for bed.  The water pressure was weak but the water was hot and soaked away the tension in his muscles from a long day of driving.  Wrapping a towel around his waist, Stiles switched places with Jackson.  He barely had time to pull on a pair of boxers before he was falling into his bed, asleep almost before his head hit the pillow. 

Stiles was vaguely aware of Jackson maneuvering him so that he could tuck the covers around him.  “Careful,” he mumbled sleepily.  “I might start to think you care.”  He slipped back into a deeper sleep before he could hear Jackson’s response. 

                                    *********************************

He dreamed of a sparse woods and rocky soil.  Mountains shadowed him on two sides as he hunted in the few shadows created by the trees.  His prey was also his hunter and he had to be extra careful as he worked his way down to the water’s edge.  Scenting the air, he tried to find where the feeling of being watched was coming from but there was nothing around him but the smell of cedar and fir trees. 

Leaning down he scooped cool water from the lake pausing as the ripples obscured his reflection.  Tilting his head he looked closer, waiting as the water stilled. 

His hair was longer, flopping into his eyes which seemed darker and misshaped by the water’s movement.  His skin was darker, more sun-kissed than his usually pale flesh.  Confused Stiles leaned even closer to the surface of the water.  The surface smoothed and he found himself staring into Scott’s eyes.

He threw himself backwards away from the pond’s edge and completely out of his bed, falling to the thin carpeted floor with a loud thump.  Jackson was out of bed immediately and hovering over him, claws and fangs at the ready.

“Shit, shit, shit.  It was just a dream.  Sorry Jackson.  I was dreaming that I was Scott.”

The wind shifted blowing the curtains into the room.  Jackson’s nose widened as he took in and processed a scent before whirling to face the unknown danger.  It crouched at the window in shadows, the curtains blowing around its form.  Yellow eyes glowed in the dark as Jackson’s growl filled the room. 

“What the hell are you doing here, Stiles?”  The form stood and stepped into the light cast by the streetlights down the street. 

They could only gasp at the sight.  His eyes were wild and feral looking, a hint of golden yellow coloring his normally brown eyes.  Dirt and twigs were caught in his hair which was longer than Stiles ever remembered it being.  The clothing he was wearing had seen better days, now barely rags held together by stiffened mud and filth. 

“Scott!”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you want to read all the excuses and explanations for my LONG absence…read the notes at the end.

Stiles and Jackson both waited outside the bathroom door, unconsciously mirroring each other’s position on either side of the door. The shower had been running for almost ten minutes and Scott had yet to emerge.

“Can you drown in a shower?” Jackson asked, shifting his weight.

“He came in was wearing more mud than he weighed. I’m sure he’s just trying to get all the grim off him before he comes out.”

“Or he’s stalling,” Jackson pounded on the door until it shook in its frame. “That’s it Scott, times up, now get your ass out before I come in after you,” he threatened.

The water turned off and a few seconds later a dripping wet Scott stepped out of the bathroom, the small towel barely clinging to his hips as he wiped at his shaggy mane of hair with the last dry wash cloth.

“You didn’t leave me any clean towels,” Scott grumbled trying to find a way to cover himself with less than a foot of terry cloth.

“We also didn’t know you would be appearing on our window sill like Peter Pan,” Jackson snarked with a flash of blue in his eyes, his eyes briefly tracking the water that ran down Scott’s body. “You’re lucky I didn’t slash you throat when you jumped into our room.”

“Right, I think you were too busy snuggling up to Stiles to even notice me. Does Derek know you’ve got your paws all over him?”

The growl that erupted from Jackson’s throat at the accusation was enough to convince Stiles to step in as Scott shifted his weight forward, clearly ready for a fight. “Enough,” Stiles said as he pulled on Derek’s alpha power through their link. “This really isn’t the time.”

Both wolves backed down, Scott head bowing in submission. Waving them both toward the beds; Stiles tossed Scott a pair of his sweat pants and an old shirt before dropping down onto the second, unused bed and arranged the pillows behind him.

 

Stiles tried to keep from staring at Scott as his friend pulled on the clothing, the way his shoulder blades cut sharp points under his tan skin or how every vertebra of his backbone stood out. He could only imagine how much Scott had suffered.

Jackson wasn’t so subtle. He eyed the other wolf with slowly widening eyes as he watched Scott pull on the sweat pants, eyes flashing blue for just a moment. “Shit, what have you been eating? Have you been eating? You look like complete shit.”

Scott spun, already past his breaking point, claws fully extended as he flew at Jackson. Stiles reached up and caught his wrist before the two wolves could shed blood. Tugging gently, Stiles guided Scott down to sit next to him on the edge of the bed. After a few seconds Scott leaned into his shoulder with a sigh.

Jackson moved to the rumpled bed to perch stiffly at the corner, his eyes never leaving Scott’s. Stiles could feel the tension humming between them he could only guess how Scott would feel if he understood just what Jackson was really feeling. The colors of their links shifted and flexed, tugging at him in different ways, Jackson’s emotions giving away his desire to reconnect with the lost wolf. Scott may have lost the pack bond but his tie with Stiles was still strong, much deeper than one would think given the state of Scott’s emotions.

Both wolves felt agitated but not truly angry. Their close proximity to both each other had Stiles wanting to scratch at his chest as their separate threads brushed up against each other creating vibrant flashes of color behind his eyes. Stiles tried to understand what he was seeing and feeling but couldn’t quite get a hold of the underlining emotions that flowed just under the surface of their subtle growling.

Tearing his gaze from Jackson, Scott turned his full attention to Stiles with a disgruntled huff. “Why are you here, Stiles? This town is too dangerous for you to stay. You need to leave in the morning.”

Being told the town was dangerous pushed all Stiles previous planned responses right out of his brain. All the tense feelings that had come through the silver link made more sense with the knowledge that something dangerous was happening. But it didn’t explain why Scott was right in the middle of it.

“We’re here because you’re near death and needed us to save your ass. And if it’s so dangerous here, why the hell don’t you just leave and come back with us?” Jackson looked like he wanted to bite back the words, his face contorting as if he had just bitten into a lemon. “You know Stiles won’t take off until you come home anyway, he’s almost as stubborn as you are.”

“Derek would kill me if I ever stepped foot on his territory.” Scott turned a look of shock and disbelief toward Stiles. “You didn’t do anything stupid did you? I can’t believe Derek would just let you come after me after all I’ve done.” Scott jumped to his feet to pace back and forth between the two beds.

Stiles felt the tips of his ears heating and ducked his head at Scott’s muttered curses and Jackson’s snide huff of breath. “You are such an idiot sometimes, Stiles. You have a good thing with the pack and you go and lose it all coming after me. He’s never going to forgive you.”

“Don’t think for a second you know what Derek can and can’t forgive,” Jackson snarled. “Stiles is his mate, he might be angry about our little trip but he will always welcome him back.”

“Derek doesn’t forgive anything!” Scott’s eyes flaring at the memory.

“He took you both in and gave you every chance to become part of our pack. Even after you betrayed us he wouldn’t hunt you down like he would any other hunter or omega on our territory.” Jackson rose up and blocked Scott’s pacing, slowly backing him against the wall between the two beds with each word.

“That didn’t stop you.” Scott tried to stand his ground against the approaching beta, hesitating to take each step until they were chest to chest and Jackson’s growl vibrated across his skin.

“Derek had no idea what I was planning, you jackass, and I’m aware attacking you was the wrong choice. But what you did hurt our pack, more than I could have ever expected.   I was mad and hurting but I shouldn’t have let my anger get the better of me.”

“Before we have anymore werewolf posturing, maybe you could tell us what you’re doing here and why it’s so dangerous for me to stay.” Stiles asked, trying to calm the two wolves.

Letting out a sigh, Scott collapsed on to the other bed. Running his hands nervously through his hair he searched for words, eyes tracking the pattern on the carpet as he struggled to find the start of his story.

“I left you at the hospital,” he glanced apologetically upward, briefly meeting Stiles’ eyes. “Sorry about that but I thought it would be best for you. That Derek would take you back if I wasn’t there to bring back all the memories of betraying the pack and everything I did. But I shouldn’t have left you. I’m sorry.”

“I’ve been working my way through the pack territories, looking for someplace that I could be safe, someplace where I wouldn’t hurt anyone. I never realized how much I had depended on you. It’s been so hard without you.” Scott glanced up at Stiles through his long bangs.

“Yeah, well being Omega sucks. That’s your own damn fault.” Jackson sounded smug and self-righteous but Stiles could feel a curl of worry darken his thread.

Scott’s shoulders tensed but otherwise he ignored Jackson and continued speaking directly to Stiles. “When I first arrived here I thought it would be perfect. It was quiet and far enough away from the major cities that I figured that I wouldn’t have trouble with any other packs.”

“And you’d be far enough away in this backwater shithole that Stiles would have never been able to find you.” Jackson added. “You abandoned him and went off to hide because you were ashamed.”

Scott lifted one shoulder in helpless agreement. Stiles could feel the emotions rolling off his friend, the silver thread resonating with loneliness, unwanted hope, and desperation.

“But this town, they’ve all been cowed by the pack that lives here. I think this must have been hunter territory once but the wolves have killed off or turned anyone left after the War that might have been able to stand up to the alpha.”

Fist clinching, Scott turned to face Jackson. “He’s crazy Jackson, completely enraged. You need to take Stiles and get out of town before they discover you’re here. They won’t hesitate to kill you both and they’ve perfected the art of making it look like an accident or natural causes. This isn’t your fight.”

“But it’s supposed to be yours?” Jackson snorted. “What are you planning on doing? Cry until he surrenders?”

“What I was raised to do. Make the world safe from werewolves.” At Jackson’s look at disbelieve and Stiles’ gasp, Scott added quickly, “This is the type of pack we should have been hunting.”

“We never needed Hunter to help us take care of rogue packs. If this alpha has gone rabid, it’s not your fight.” Jackson’s voice dropped and he grabbed Scott by the bicep. “You are going to get yourself killed.”

“It is my fight. This is what I was raised to do, what I’ve trained for my entire life. What do you think a Hunter is supposed to be? Just some mindless killer? If that’s so you are just as wrong about me as I’ve been about werewolves.”

“Those hunters you’re so fond of lost their right to police werewolves a long time ago. I don’t care how many out of control alphas you stop you won’t get to make amends for what they did and you know it,” snarled Jackson

“Regardless Scott, you can’t do this alone. You need to know when to ask for help. What exactly do you think you can do, alone, to stop this alpha? Aside from dying?” Stiles concentrated on the silver thread, pulling gently on it.

Much of the fight went out of Scott. With a sigh he dropped his shoulders and almost whispered, “I don’t know. But I have to try.”

“Are you really this fucking stupid? You’re using this as an excuse to get yourself killed because of a massive guilt trip. Dying won’t make it better.” Turning Jackson slammed Scott against the far wall. “This isn’t penance. This is a really creative suicide attempt, you jackass. And if you think for one second that I’m going to stand by while you get slaughtered, you’re more of an idiot than I ever imagined.”

Scott didn’t fight back, just went almost limp in Jackson’s grasp. “I have to try,” he whispered. “I can’t just leave them like this.”

“Then we will just have to help you.” Stiles’ jaw dropped at Jackson’s statement. “Jackson, I’m all for helping but this is an alpha. Having three of us attack him will just give him more options on how to kill us.”

“Then it’s a good thing we have an Alpha of our own. The house isn’t far; Derek can be here in under a day. This isn’t something an omega can deal with and the hunter you claim to still be has lost all right to try to police werewolves. This is pack business, so we will deal with it. As a pack.” Jackson released his hold on Scott, letting the omega almost tumble to the floor at his feet.

Stiles’ mouth worked silently, opening and closing as he tried to come up with an argument to dissuade Jackson from calling Derek but he could see the look of resolve in the wolf’s eyes and snapped his mouth shut as Jackson growled, “Derek will kill me if I let anything happen to you and no matter how much you don’t want to you’re more than crazy enough to try helping this idiot and take on a pack by yourselves.”

Pulling Scott upright by his shoulders and pushing him toward the bed, Jackson faced Stiles with a look that boded no argument. “Now do you want to call your mate and ask for help or do you want me to let him know what you’ve been up to?”

Grabbing Stiles’ phone, Jackson held it out with a raised eyebrow. “I know you’re smarter than droopy over there.”

Biting his lip, Stiles took the phone from Jackson and pressed Derek’s number with a trembling hand. Derek answered on the first ring. “Just tell me where you are Stiles and we’ll be on our way.”

Stiles’ knees wavered and the connection between him and his mate flared bright and strong. Meeting Scott’s eyes, Stiles smiled, feeling complete for the first time since he left the pack territory. “There on their way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I’ve been gone for so very long. First off I’d like to thank my beta, Jokr for sticking with me and kicking me in my butt to get me to get back on track. Second I’d like to thank any of you that are still out there reading this…sorry.
> 
> So…do you really care??? I guess if you are still reading the answer is a YES.   
> My family calls it a “funk”. My fiancé called it depression and dragged me to see a doctor claiming that spending the whole of Christmas break in bed with the covers tucked over my head was NOT normal and NO I was not going to emerge as a butterfly and find that everything was magically better. So…off I went, kicking and griping and telling him that I was FINE, DAMNIT and I didn’t need no stinking doctor. Yeah…long story short - - he was right. I’m better now. He’s a bit on the smug side for being right – for ONCE! 
> 
> Sorry it was so long of a wait. I will try to have the rest of the story finished by the end of March. Thanks for reading.


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